


Silent Retribution

by UMdancer98



Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is awesome, Alfred is also wise, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batman and Robin couldn't do this without Alfred, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson is smart, Dick Grayson is strong, Gen, Lots of Angst, Protective Batman/Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMdancer98/pseuds/UMdancer98
Summary: Conall O'Reilly has come to Gotham City for revenge and Robin is his target. But he's not the only one who wants the boy dead.  Sequel to "The Final Flight".
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of my original characters is Irish but I didn't "write" his accent. There are several small reminders throughout. For future reference, in this chapter and others, I have nothing against "the media". It's a cliche that fit the circumstances. Thanks for reading!

Two months. It had been two long months since Conall O’Reilly had returned to Gotham City after burying his only brother in the family plot in Galway, Ireland. Two months with no sign of Robin, at all, anywhere! He had seen the Bat-signal several times but the only one who ever responded was Batman. Conall’s seventh-floor apartment was directly across from Police Headquarters, affording him an impeccable view of the roof where the Bat-signal was located. Every time he saw that bright beam in the night sky he stood at his window, watching the shadows carefully. But Robin was never there. 

Maybe Batman’s partner wasn’t going to recover from the injuries he had sustained while _killing_ Conall’s younger brother, Faolan. He hoped that wasn’t the case; it was _his_ job to avenge his brother’s wrongful death and he wanted Robin to be fully recovered when he took his revenge.

The newspapers called his brother “The Darkling” and portrayed him as a horrible villain. Faolan wasn’t capable of doing the things they said he did. Complete injustice, that’s what it was. His brother wasn’t here to defend himself and Robin had Batman and the entire police force on his side. The public adored their young hero and Conall was furious whenever he heard someone talking about how Robin had “saved the day” when he rescued some guy named Bruce from that “awful villain, The Darkling”. _Robin_ was the true villain in the situation and Conall was here to make sure the kid knew it. Robin was going to pay a heavy price for his grave misdeed.

* * *

“Robin, the Bat-signal is on and the commissioner is waiting for us; let’s go!”

Batman was frustrated with his partner, who was attempting to re-adjust his Robin suit.

“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t fit very well anymore!” Robin replied, his tone also outlined with frustration.

Batman sighed as he stated, “I told you this yesterday: the muscle mass in your torso has increased and your uniform won’t fit like it did before. I also remember telling you to _try it on_! Alfred could have easily fixed this if you had obeyed me and you wouldn’t be so uncomfortable. You have two choices – sit and wait for Alfred to come back and adjust it or be uncomfortable. Decide now!” 

“You are NOT going without me again. I’m tired of sitting at home while you go out and have all the fun. I decide to be uncomfortable,” Robin declared as he folded his arms across his chest, causing a loud tearing sound that came from beneath his cape.

Batman nearly rolled his eyes at the look of chagrin on his partner’s face.

“Now you _have_ to wait here for Alfred,” the man remarked. “I’ll get the information from the commissioner and come back for you.”

“But I chose to…”

Robin’s sentence trailed off as the Batmobile suddenly roared away. Annoyed, he tore off the top half of his Robin suit and sat down to wait for Alfred.

“I should have tried it on yesterday,” he muttered.

* * *

The Bat-signal was on again. Conall stood at the window in his dark apartment, waiting for Batman to arrive. Would it actually be the “Dynamic Duo” this time? He had his answer as Commissioner Gordon turned to talk to a figure that had just emerged from the shadows on the roof – a single figure. Angrily turning away from the window, Conall picked up a vase of flowers he kept on the sill and threw it across the room, watching as it shattered and wishing it was Robin’s body. The things he wanted to do to that kid….

The images of a small, mangled body presented themselves in his head, but Conall knew he could never go _that_ far. Beat the kid up a little, probably, but he would most likely stop at the first major injury – a broken bone, a very bloody wound, knocking the boy unconscious. He sometimes wished he was past feeling, that torturing a kid nearly to death wouldn’t bother him. But it did, so he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Conall started pacing around his apartment, muttering to himself, unsure of what he was _actually_ going to do when he finally had the boy. He paused by the window as an idea materialized in his mind:

“Physical _and_ emotional trauma! But…how do I play with his emotions? What makes him tick?”

Now he was glad Robin hadn’t come tonight; he was going to have to go back to the drawing board to work out a new plan. Well, not completely new. He just needed to add some things.

He watched as Batman disappeared back into the shadows and the Bat-signal was turned off. Another idea jumped into his head.

 _Batman…Gotham City…protecting people…hero…_.

Conall smiled as sat down at his table and started typing on his recently purchased computer. His first search: the laws of Gotham City. He scanned through them, found the one he wanted and began memorizing it line by line. If this was going to work, he had to know what he was talking about.

* * *

_Come on, Alfred, hurry up!_

Alfred had gone to pick up Aunt Harriet, who had been invited to a social dinner. The event was, of course, being held all the way on the other side of the city. Robin knew that Batman would just leave him here if he wasn’t ready. He searched the Batcave with his eyes; maybe there was _something_ he could use, just for tonight. Maybe Batman would let him go bare-chested, just for tonight.

_Like that’s ever going to happen._

He dropped his head in defeat as he heard the Batmobile approaching. He might as well go change; he wouldn’t be able to go out…again. It was his own fault, though, so he had to accept the consequences. He sighed loudly as Batman opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car.

“Alfred’s not back yet,” the Caped Crusader commented. “Well, I told…”

“I KNOW!” Robin shouted. Immediately calming down he said, “Sorry, I just really wanted to go out tonight. It’s been two months since the circus! I’ve been looking forward to this all week but now…” he gestured toward his torn uniform as he sighed again.

“Get some sleep,” Batman replied. “Alfred can help you tomorrow.”

He turned and strode back to the Batmobile. Just before climbing in he turned to Robin and stated, “You’re not missing much; it’s just a small-time mob ring.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

 **The next afternoon:**

Conall looked down at the envelope in his hand. It was addressed to Mindy Landis at “The Catch” – a tabloid magazine that he had been reading recently. Mindy’s articles always contained scathing reviews of the actions of different famous people: the wealthy elite, politicians, celebrities and, Conall hoped, the Caped Crusaders – more specifically Robin. He had never seen one about the heroes but there was always a first time for everything. Maybe she would do something with the “information” he was about to give her. It wasn’t much but hopefully it was enough to initiate an investigation. He opened the envelope and took out the letter to double-check everything one last time:

Dear Ms. Landis,

I am an avid reader of your articles. You impress me with your knowledge of people and the things they are capable of. I have some interesting news for you about someone famous. His name is Robin and he is Batman’s sidekick. I haven’t seen any articles about them from you, but I’ve only been here a few months. Here’s what I know: Robin killed Faolan O’Reilly to keep him quiet; the man knew too much. This young “hero” has a dark secret. I don’t know all the details yet but I am working diligently to figure it out. Robin must also have something on Bruce Wayne and is blackmailing him to stick to his “I was kidnapped” story. O’Reilly is being portrayed as the villain – “The Darkling” – while the real villain is still alive and continuing in his evil ways. I am asking for your help; you have the resources to dig into Robin’s background. What is he hiding? Maybe you can write something that will encourage the people of this city to demand that Robin give them the details surrounding these circumstances…? The citizens of Gotham deserve to know the truth about this young man they call a “hero”. Thank you. -- A seeker of truth

* * *

**The next morning:**

Alfred looked concerned when he brought in the morning paper. “Master Bruce, I think we should keep this away from Master Dick for the time being.”

“What’s wrong, Alfred?” Bruce saw the worried look on his butler’s face and frowned.

“You know the tabloid magazine that is always included in the Sunday paper?” Alfred inquired. “Look at the front cover and then flip to page three.”

Bruce retrieved the magazine, entitled “The Catch”, from the middle of the paper and was shocked at what he saw: a picture of a coffin, with the name ‘The Darkling’ clearly printed on the side. Right beside it was a smiling Robin, arms folded across his chest and pride on his face. As Alfred had suggested, Bruce flipped to page three and was shocked again:

A Bird in the Hand

By: Mindy Landis

Robin, the young hero of Gotham City, has not been seen in two months. Commissioner Gordon refuses to comment and Batman ignores any questions about his sidekick. Are they trying to protect Robin because he is injured or is he ashamed to show his face? Does Batman’s partner have a dark secret? Is ‘The Darkling’ – Faolan O’Reilly – actually the victim, not the villain? What really happened the night he died? What is the so-called “Boy Wonder” trying to hide and why? Bruce Wayne is tight-lipped about his alleged “kidnapping” and we are unable to hear Mr. O’Reilly’s side of the story. Will Robin ever decide to tell us his version of the events or does he think his cover-up lies will be too unbelievable for the people of our fair city to accept? My source needs your help, citizens of Gotham. Demand justice for The Darkling and help us discover the truth about the incident that severely injured Robin and killed Mr. O’Reilly. Our motto is “We find the truth” and, this time, we need your help! Contact Mindy Landis with any information you have. Until next time readers….

* * *

Bruce threw the magazine on the floor, furious at the author, the magazine and whoever her “source” was. Who would accuse Robin of something like that? Robin was his partner and everyone in Gotham held them both in high regard.

“I am not being ‘tight-lipped’ about the incident,” he growled, “I’m just tired of answering the same questions over and over! I have answered _every single question_ ANY reporter has EVER asked me about that day and night!” Bruce was shouting by the time he finished his sentence.

“Master Bruce, please, keep your voice…” Alfred began but he was too late.

“Bruce, what’s wrong?!”

Dick ran down the stairs and burst into the dining room. He stopped short when he saw the look on Bruce’s face.

“Is everything okay?” he asked as he bent down to pick up a magazine that was on the floor.

“Dick, don’t, let me…”

Bruce attempted to distract him but Dick had already seen the beginning of the article. His face became pale as he read it and his entire body was trembling by the time he was done.

“What, I mean, why?” he whispered in disbelief. “I…I…Bruce what do we do?”

The teen’s voice was shaking as he stumbled over to the nearest chair and dropped onto it, still staring at the article in his hands.

Bruce’s fury grew as he saw the look of devastation on his ward’s face. “We will go down and talk to her, as Batman and Robin. We will demand a retraction. We will…”

“No, _we_ can’t,” Dick interrupted loudly. “Batman wasn’t there; she won’t believe anything you say. I have to do it.” His voice returned to a whisper as he asked, “What do I say? It _was_ an accident but I _did_ kind of aim for him at the end. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have just, I don’t know, tried to save myself without landing on him, I guess?”

“Dick, you would be dead right now if you had done anything different,” Bruce growled as he glared at the table, trying to remain calm for the sake of his partner.

“Yes, but The Darkling would be alive and in the State Pen and you wouldn’t have to deal with this,” Dick stated sadly.

“I would much rather deal with _this_ than have to deal with your _death_!” Bruce yelled in frustration.

Dick stood up, a look of determination carved onto his face. “I’ll go and tell her what really happened; the whole story. I can, um, Bruce, where are you going?”

Bruce was already up and walking toward his study. “I’m going with you Dick; you aren’t going to do this alone. She’ll tear you apart.”

“Batman wasn’t there!” Dick exclaimed.

Bruce stopped and pivoted to face Dick. “Then I’ll go as Bruce Wayne, who _was_ there.”

* * *

 **A seventh-floor apartment by Police Headquarters:**

Conall O’Reilly smiled when he read Mindy’s article. Everything was going perfectly; Mindy had kick-started his plan to traumatize the “Boy Wonder” by asking the entire population to fight against him. Robin, after reading the article, would begin to panic. People who panic make mistakes, especially foolish sidekicks who know nothing about the real world.

 _He’ll go talk to her; I know he will. Nobody would let this kind of accusation go without disputing it_. _And, this time, Batman won’t be able to help._

Conall walked over to his kitchen counter, picked up the phone and called Mindy.

“Mindy Landis, The Catch,” she answered professionally.

“Hi, I’m the source that sent you the letter about Robin. I want to see how he reacts to this situation, in person. Can you set up a meetin’ with him and let me know the time and place? I want to meet him; I want to see his face when he tries to lie about the incident.”

“Well, first tell me your name. I think you and I should meet before I set up a meeting with Robin. I want to squeeze the truth out of him and, in order to do that, I need to know everything you know. We need to talk,” Mindy replied, surprised that her source was calling so soon after publication.

“I donna’ want to talk to you, I want to talk to _him_!” the man exclaimed, his tone angry and impatient.

“And I don’t want to be surprised by anything he might say to cover up what happened!” she retorted. “I will not let you come to any meeting with Robin unless I have received all the information you have about that night!”

“Fine,” he ground out, frustrated that she was going to get in the way of his revenge. “I’ll meet you at the Italian restaurant by Police Headquarters. Five thirty?”

“I’ll be there,” Mindy replied, surprised again.

_Most contacts don’t agree to meet right away. This should be interesting._

* * *

“I’ll summon him, sir,” Alfred spoke into the Batphone. He put the receiver down and went back to the kitchen. “It’s the Batphone, Master Bruce.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce motioned for Dick to follow as he walked into the study. “Yes, Commissioner.”

“Batman,” the commissioner’s voice was concerned, “have you by any chance seen the paper this morning?”

“Yes, Commissioner and that article is a disgrace! Both you and Bruce Wayne have been answering questions about that incident for two months!” Bruce struggled to control the anger building inside him.

“That’s true Batman but…do you think Robin could come out and answer some questions? We could hold a press conference and clear everything up. The article by Miss Landis would surely be discredited after Robin tells his side of the story.”

Bruce paused; did he really want Robin to have to go through that? “Maybe a written statement would be better, Commissioner. He is only a teenager, after all. I really don’t want to throw him to the wolves that are the Gotham City media.”

Beside him, Dick shook his head and mouthed, “I can do it!” Bruce frowned in disagreement and Dick let it go.

“Well, okay, Batman, I understand. Do you think he can come to Headquarters tomorrow morning to do that?”

“Yes, he’ll be there. Thank you, Commissioner,” Bruce replied as he hung up the Batphone.

“So, do I tell them that I aimed for him?” Dick looked sick as he contemplated the consequences of that action. 

“Dick, you stick to the basics. You went to the circus grounds, I was hanging on a trapeze, you were able to get me back to the platform before the chains broke but then you fell. The Darkling was standing there not moving, you said he was looking at you in shock, and you landed on him. Lucky for you, unlucky for him. You would have liked to have seen him locked up instead. That’s it; end of statement.”

“But, what if they want details? I can’t tell them anything without revealing my identity!” Dick exclaimed. “They’ll ask for more information; I _know_ they will!” 

Bruce turned so he was directly facing Dick. Putting his hands on the distraught boy’s shoulders he stated, “I will be there with you. I will take care of it. Trust me?”

Dick sighed, “Of course I trust you; I’m worried, though. What if people hate me now?”

“People know you, _Robin_ , and nobody is going to start hating you. We will find this writer’s ‘source’ and get to the bottom of it. Understand?”

Dick sighed again, “Yeah, thanks.” He turned away and walked out of the study and up the stairs, his head hanging down. “I’ll be down for lunch,” he mumbled as he walked into his room and closed the door.

Alfred looked up from dusting the fireplace as Bruce walked into the living room. “Is Master Dick okay, Master Bruce?”

Bruce shook his head, “He’s not going to be okay until this is all cleared up.” He massaged his temples with his fingers and sat down on the couch. “Why would she attack a young man? He’s not even sixteen yet! She’s been after Bruce Wayne before and she’s relentless. Dick won’t have a moment of peace until this is over.”

“I’m sorry, Master Bruce. On the bright side, you and I are the only ones that know who Master Robin is so she can’t go poking into his background. There’s nothing to find.”

“That’s true, Alfred. I’m going to go down to the Batcave and try to find some connection between The Darkling and Mindy Landis. But why would she wait two months…?” His thought trailed off as he stood up and walked back to the study. “I’ll be up for lunch, Alfred,” he called as he closed the door.

* * *

**Five thirty-seven that night:**

Mindy sat down on a bench in the lobby of the restaurant, shaking her head as she glanced down at her watch. Traffic had been horrible and she was late. Hopefully her source wasn’t too concerned with punctuality because she _needed_ this information; she had always wanted to go after Batman or Robin. Together they were too formidable to take on but she was lucky; the younger, more vulnerable half of the partnership had made the mistake without his partner even there. If Batman showed up when she called Robin out, she could discredit anything he had to say.

Conall sat down next to Mindy and whispered, “Should we go eat or talk right here?”

Mindy was startled and turned to face the strange man next to her. “Excuse me? Who are you?”

The man looked at the ground. “I am a seeker of truth and I want justice for Faolan O’Reilly. I want to meet Robin.”

Mindy leaned over and murmured, “Tell me everything you know and I’ll set up a meeting.” 

Conall sighed. _This is going to be harder than I thought._

“Why would a man like Faolan O’Reilly kidnap Bruce Wayne? He had no motive; Wayne has never said anything about being kidnapped for money. He had no resources – I know for a fact that he had been in Gotham City for less than two weeks.”

Mindy laughed, “You _are_ new, aren’t you? Bruce Wayne has always stated that The Darkling wanted to get rid of Batman. That was his motive: The Darkling wanted a straight up exchange – Bruce for Batman. Commissioner Gordon has spoken about this, also. Apparently, Batman was out of the country and Robin somehow got The…”

“Stop callin’ him that!” the man yelled in frustration.

“Okay,” Mindy continued calmly, “Robin somehow got O’Reilly to agree to free Bruce in a straight up exchange for himself.”

“No, that can’t be true. Why would Faolan want to get rid of _Batman_?”

“Well, I can’t answer that,” Mindy stated. “This is why I need all the information you can give me. I have wanted to go after Batman or Robin for so long. Robin will be easy to break; he’s just a kid!”

Conall’s expression darkened. “You’re right: he will be easy to break, he is just a kid, take him down!” he semi-shouted the last three words.

“Keep your voice down! If that’s all you can give me, well…it’s not enough to include you in any future meetings I have with anyone involved. Actually, _I’ve_ given _you_ information since you obviously didn’t know the complete story. We can talk again when you have _real_ material for me, if that ever happens,” Mindy shook her head as she stood up to leave.

“Wait, I know that it happened at the old circus grounds!” Conall was suddenly worried that his chance to catch Robin would be gone.

“Yes, I know that, too. In fact, anyone who reads the newspapers or watches the news knows that. Wow, you are some piece of work. I wrote my article based on your letter and the evidence you said you had of Robin’s ‘dark secret’. You don’t really have any, do you?” Mindy sighed as she sat down again. “What do you want; why did you contact me if you don’t know anything new?”

“I…I just…well, I knew Mr. O’Reilly back in Ireland. He was the kindest man I have ever met. He would stop and play with the little kids on his way home from work; he was always willin’ to help paint a house, or clean a yard, or whatever other type of service there was to be done around his neighborhood. I just _canna’_ believe that he would do anythin’ like this; not the Faolan O’Reilly I knew. Robin must have done somethin’!”

The man was troubled and Mindy felt bad for him.

“Listen,” she said, “I’ve organized a demonstration for tomorrow morning, in front of Police Headquarters. I haven’t talked to Batman, Robin or Commissioner Gordon since my article was printed so I can’t say that any of those three will show up. However, you might be interested in it.” She stood up and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, 77reader, DebbieF, and MeetMeInTheWoods! :)

**The next morning:**

Batman and Robin wanted to get to Headquarters as early as possible; the fewer people who saw them the better. They were surprised, however, when they turned onto the street where it was located. There was a large crowd of people in front – some had posters, others were chanting – and it looked a lot like a protest. Somebody noticed the Batmobile and everyone turned to look. They backed away from Headquarters as Batman drove up to the entrance and parked.

“What’s going on here?” Robin asked hesitantly, hoping that his giving a statement to the commissioner had nothing to do with it. 

"I don’t know; let’s just get in there quickly,” Batman replied angrily.

He had seen what was written on one of the signs and was appalled by the message.

They opened their doors, got out and started up the steps. Robin stopped cold, however, when he heard:

“Hey, Robin, why aren’t you talking to us? Did you kill The Darkling to keep your dark secret safe?”

Robin slowly turned around to face the accuser. Batman stepped to his partner’s side and said, “Ignore them; let’s go.” He was too late because Robin had just seen the same sign as Batman:

VILLAIN OR HERO? JUSTICE FOR THE DARKLING! DON’T LET ROBIN’S CRIME GO UNPUNISHED!

All of the color drained from Robin’s face as he processed the meaning of that sign.

"Robin, let’s go, _now_ ,” Batman demanded quietly. Robin’s emotions were about to burst out of him and Batman needed him to show strength. “Turn around and walk away; you need to be stronger than them right now. We can work _this_ out later.”

Robin’s eyes were pools of anger surrounded by a border of apprehension and his hands were clenched into fists but he did as he was told, turning around and continuing his climb to the entrance.

Accusatory statements were now being thrown at him by angry voices scattered throughout the crowd:

“What are you hiding, Robin? Heroes don’t kill people! Walk away, sidekick, you’ll be in the State Pen by the end of the week!” 

Robin stopped again, his entire body trembling with rage and fear. Forgetting Batman’s instructions, he whirled around and shouted, “It was an accident! I didn’t want him to _die_!”

Batman grabbed his partner by the shoulders and manhandled him up the rest of the steps and into the lobby of the station.

“What were you _thinking_?!” Batman was furious with Robin but he kept his voice quiet. “What happened to ‘walk away’ and ‘ignore them’?”

Robin was staring at the floor, his anger replaced with guilt and distress. “I…I’m sorry Batman,” he whispered. “I couldn’t, I mean, it _was_ an accident, right? Do you think I’m going to be arrested?”

The teenager was scared now, really scared. The State Pen was full of criminals that _he_ had helped put there. Not to mention all the villains….

Batman exhaled and attempted to calm down. “Okay, Robin, look at me.” He waited and finally had to forcefully lift the boy’s chin with his hand. “I will not let you be arrested and Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t do that, anyway. He knows you, Robin. You don’t have any dark secrets and you are _not_ a villain. You are not going to the State Pen unless, of course, you are taking a bad guy to his cell.”

Batman tried to grin at his last comment but it didn’t work. The expression on Robin’s face didn’t help; his partner looked terrified.

* * *

Conall couldn’t believe his eyes: Robin was _right there_ in front of him and the crowd was heckling him! He saw the anger, then distress, in the boy’s eyes and laughed out loud. The kid was already paying a price and Conall didn’t even have him yet. The emotional trauma had begun with a simple article. Robin’s own city was turning against him and he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He laughed again as he turned away and walked to a payphone down the block.

“Hello, yes, I would like to speak to Chief O’Hara, please,” he said, emphasizing his Irish accent.

There was a short pause and then, “Chief O’Hara speaking.”

“My name is Conall O’Reilly and, as I was sittin’ here watching the news, I saw Robin walk into Police Headquarters. Please tell me that he is about to be arrested; I am prepared to press charges for the death of my brother, Faolan O’Reilly.”

“Oh, Mr. O’Reilly, sir, I’m sorry. Robin is here to give us a written statement about what happened – his side of the story. That’s all.”

“Okay, but I just said that I’m ready to press charges against him,” Conall declared loudly, upset that O’Hara seemed to be on Robin’s side.

“I heard you, sir, and I’ll keep you informed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take his statement. Good day, Mr. O’Reilly.” 

Conall listened to the dial-tone and then hung up the phone in frustration. Plan A wasn’t working out the way he had hoped. Robin was supposed to be arrested and then Conall was supposed to grab him when the police were transferring him to the State Pen.

* * *

Robin groaned in both frustration and relief as he climbed into the Batmobile two hours later. The engine roared to life and the Boy Wonder shook his head.

“How do you do it, Batman? How do you stand in front of so many people and answer questions like that?”

Batman thought for a moment then replied, “I actually hate it. They ask the same questions over and over, trying to trip you up. That is exactly why I didn’t want you to participate in a press conference. I know it’s hard to do but, the next time people are jeering at you, let it go and walk away. Those people weren’t even from the media and they got to you. Reporters are relentless and even more vicious than that crowd.” 

“I know, sorry. It was just so irritating!” he sighed and leaned back in his seat. “At least it’s over,” he mumbled.

They were halfway back to the Batcave when the Batphone extension rang.

Robin sat up and lifted the receiver, “Yes, Commissioner?”

“Robin, I’m sorry but we need you to come back to Headquarters. The Dark…I mean, Mr. O’Reilly’s brother is here and he is pressing charges against you on behalf of his brother.”

“Uh…” Robin dropped the phone in shock.

“Robin, what happened?” Batman demanded as he pulled the Batmobile over to the side of the road. Robin didn’t answer; didn’t even move.

Batman grabbed the Batphone and loudly asked, “Commissioner, what’s going on? Whatever you just told Robin…” but he only heard a dial-tone.

Slamming the phone down, he grabbed Robin’s head and forced the boy to look at him. “What happened?! ROBIN!”

Startled out of his stupor, Robin felt tears well up in his eyes as he stammered out the answer.

“The Dark…Darkling’s brother is…is press…pressing charges. Against me for, um, murder, I guess?”

Batman felt like he had been slapped in the face. The Darkling was the villain and _Robin_ was the one about to be arrested?!

“We, uh, have to go back. I’m strong, right? I can handle myself. In there. With all the villains that I helped capture. I’ll be fine. Right?”

Robin sounded petrified, with good reason. There were many unpleasant things that could happen to him in the State Penitentiary.

Batman shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Here’s what we are going to do. We’ll go back and I will get the commissioner to put you on house arrest at Wayne Manor.”

“What if they don’t let me go to the Manor?”

“They will, Robin, I’ll take care of it, okay?”

The words were full of confidence but, in actuality, Batman was also worried about that. Something was nagging at him in the back of his mind but he couldn’t quite grasp the thought.

“Okay,” Robin answered softly.

Batman turned the Batmobile around and they returned to Headquarters. The news had been leaked and reporters from every station were there, waiting for them to arrive.

“Robin, we are getting out and walking straight up the steps. Do not look anywhere except straight forward. Do not listen to anything anyone is saying. Do not, under any circumstances, say anything. Understand?”

Batman’s even voice belied his emotions. He was trying to stay calm for the sake of his partner even while the fury was building inside him.

“Okay,” Robin replied, as softly as he had before.

“Okay,” Batman sighed.

They opened their doors, got out and walked up the steps to the entrance. Questions were being hurled at them from all directions but Robin made it inside without showing any signs of distress. Batman, although he didn’t say anything, was proud of his young partner.

“I’m sorry Robin but…I have to arrest you,” Chief O’Hara’s voice was sad as he stepped up with his handcuffs.

“Chief, is that really necessary? He is already here. You don’t need extra security; he’s going with you quietly,” Batman stated.

The Caped Crusader was composed on the outside but inside he was fuming. The chief wanted to cuff Robin when the boy was turning himself in!

“I’m just following protocol, Batman. I guess he doesn’t really need them, though. Sorry, Boy Wonder, really sorry about all this.”

A large man came striding down the hallway yelling, “Why isn’t he in handcuffs?! He is a dangerous murderer!”

Robin had dropped his head and Batman noticed him flinch when he heard those words. The man didn’t slow down as he approached them – Batman saw the clenched fist and knew what was about to happen. He shoved his arm up in front of Robin’s face, blocking the punch that probably would have broken his nose.

“Mr. O’Reilly! I know you’re upset but that is assault!” Commissioner Gordon’s voice was irritated as he came up to them. “I will decide whether or not he needs to be in handcuffs. You are not part of this force and you will _not_ make any decisions regarding this young man. He is turning himself in, not trying to take us down with his bare hands!”

Robin, who had been staring at his wrists and waiting for the cold metal and clinking sound of handcuffs, jerked his head up in surprise. The commissioner winked at him and Robin returned a small grin. He looked to his right as Batman stepped forward.

“Commissioner, I would like to press charges against this man, whoever he is, for assault. Robin’s face was his target and I was fortunate to get my arm up in time.”

Conall O’Reilly looked at Batman in disbelief. “ _You_ want to press charges against _me_?” he screamed. “Your sidekick killed my brother! I know it wasn’t an accident – there is no way Faolan would do any of the things you say he did! YOU,” he pointed at Robin with a look of pure hatred, “are hiding somethin’. You killed him to keep him quiet!”

Robin’s heart was pounding and his hands were clenched into fists. Batman placed his hand on top of Robin’s fists. He didn’t need assault added to the charges.

“Commissioner, please get this man away from Robin before I do something we will all regret,” Batman commanded, his voice deadly serious.

The commissioner nodded to Chief O’Hara, who motioned some officers over to hold Conall back while they walked Robin down to the processing room.

“You will pay for this kid! Even if I have to stay in Gotham for ten years, I will make sure that you are convicted in a court of law!”

Conall’s loud voice followed them down the long hall and Robin shuddered as he thought of what could happen to him in the State Pen.

* * *

Conall O’Reilly grinned as he walked away from the Police Headquarters. He had spoken to every single reporter from every single station and newspaper, verifying that Robin had been arrested and that he, Conall, would be staying until the justice that had been denied to his brother was visited upon Robin’s head. Now, he just had to wait for the transfer to the State Pen. Plan A was back on track.

* * *

**Police Headquarters – twenty minutes later:**

“Commissioner, there is absolutely no reason for Robin to go to the State Penitentiary.”

Batman was trying to remain calm, but it was proving to be very difficult. He was both annoyed at the police and worried for his young ward.

“Bruce Wayne will accept him on house arrest; you have talked to him about this before,” he continued. “Think about what could happen in there. How many villains that _Robin_ _helped_ _you catch_ are currently in there? Riddler, Joker, Two-Face, Penguin, and the list goes on!”

Robin’s whole body was shaking now. The commissioner was not listening to Batman; he was going to send Robin to the State Pen.

“Batman, listen, I’m sorry,” Commissioner Gordon tried to explain. “My hands are basically tied. Mr. O’Reilly knows our laws and one of them is that someone who is accused of…well, murder, is not allowed on house arrest.”

That was it; that was what had been skipping around the edges of Batman’s brain. There was no loophole, the words in that law were very specific.

“We will keep him isolated from everyone…” the commissioner continued.

“ _Oh, so you’re going to put him in isolation! That will be really good for him_!” Batman roared sarcastically. “How long are you expecting him to stay there – a day?”

“Well,” the commissioner’s voice was quiet, “until his first hearing.”

“ _Which is at least THREE WEEKS AWAY_!” Batman exploded. “You’re keeping him in isolation for three weeks?! He’s _fifteen years old_ , Commissioner!”

Robin stood up as tall as he could and yelled, “Stop. I’m Robin. I’ll be fine. I can handle myself, isolation or not. Just, please,” his voice was quiet and shaking again, “try to speed up the hearing?”

Batman placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “You _will_ be fine, Robin, and I will be there to check on you _every day_. You tell me everything that happens in there; a full report. Got it?”

“Yes, Batman,” Robin whispered, looking up at him with obvious dread. “Full report; every day. Every day?” Robin wanted to be sure.

Batman looked straight into his young partner’s terror-filled eyes. “Every. Day.”

Chief O’Hara cleared his throat, “The transfer truck is here.”

And, just like that, Robin was gone.

_Away from me, away from safety, headed toward the State Pen and probable injuries_.

Batman was worried, scared and furious as he stared out the window of the commissioner’s office, watching the transfer truck fade into the distance.

_He’ll be fine. He’s Robin, I’ve trained him well. He’ll be fine._

_Those psychopaths will gang up on him. He’s not going to survive the night._

_He can’t go in a cell until he’s processed. He’ll survive tonight._

_But what about tomorrow night? And every day and night after that?_

_He’s Robin. He’ll be…_

“It will work out, Batman,” Commissioner Gordon stated quietly. “Warden Crichton will take care of him.”

Batman turned his head and gave his deepest, darkest Bat-glare to the man in front of him. Without a word, the hero strode past the commissioner and chief. He ‘accidentally’ roughly brushed their respective shoulders and didn’t even bother looking back. Robin was in a great amount of danger because of them and Batman didn’t care if they each had a small bruise in the morning.

“This isn’ right, Commissioner,” Chief O’Hara stated as he rubbed his already-bruising shoulder. “Robin’s a kid, not a hardened criminal.”

“You think I don’t know that, Chief?!” the commissioner nearly yelled. “But there’s nothing I can do; the law is the law.”

“There can always be exceptions, though,” the chief quietly replied.

“Not in a murder case, O’Hara. I’ve pored through every line of that particular law, searching for a loophole. There’s nothing we can use, nothing we can even leverage. Robin is, unfortunately, about to be a resident of the State Pen.”

“Heav’n help the boy,” the chief muttered.

“Heaven help us all,” the commissioner whispered.

He hoped he was wrong but, deep down, James Gordon knew that they wouldn’t be receiving help from a certain hero until this was all over. At least most of the dangerous villains were locked away in the State Pen, where Robin…

“Heaven help the boy,” the commissioner inaudibly echoed Chief O’Hara’s words.

* * *

**Deserted patch of land 20 miles away from Police Headquarters:**

Conall O’Reilly was lying on his stomach just inside the border of a thin forest. He grinned in anticipation as the transfer truck carrying Robin approached his position. The grin turned into a frown when the truck rumbled by without blowing up. That morphed into an expression of disbelief when he saw his homemade bomb drop off the underside of the vehicle. It landed on the dirt with a ‘thump’ and threw a harmless puff of white smoke into the air.

Standing up, Conall strode quickly to the bomb and picked it up. There was no green light blinking and no quiet beeping. It was a dud. Angrily, the man threw it into the forest and stared down the road, glaring at the red taillights of the transfer truck until he couldn’t see them anymore.

Conall released a loud sigh of disappointment. He was going to have to find a different way to get justice for his brother. But at least the boy would be locked in the State Pen instead of running around and basking in his freedom. The man had at least two weeks to figure out a Plan B.


	3. Chapter 3

**The State Pen Processing Department – 9 PM:**

“Name,” the tired officer nearly growled.

He was staring down at the processing paperwork, his pen poised above the line, and internally yelling insults at whatever criminal was standing there and interrupting his snack.

“Robin, sir.”

The reply was soft but the impact that name had on the man behind the desk was not. He immediately lifted his head and found himself staring into the light-blue eyes of the younger half of the Dynamic Duo.

“Robin?!”

Lieutenant Anthony Copple was no longer tired. He stared at the teenager in shock while one thought flashed through his mind. Why was the young hero standing in front of the processing desk at the State Penitentiary?

“Um, what else do you need, sir?”

Robin’s still-quiet voice startled the man and he abruptly stood up.

“What do _you_ need, Boy Wonder?” Copple asked in response.

“He’s here to be processed,” the transfer officer, Mitch O’Toole, answered. Holding up his right hand and shaking his head, the man continued, “Don’t ask me, I’m just doing what I’ve been told to do.”

O’Toole saw the questions in Copple’s hazel eyes and stopped the interrogation before it started. He was ready to go home and the quicker he handed the boy over, the sooner he could do that.

“Processed?” Lt. Copple stated, dumbfounded.

“Isn’t that what you do here?” O’Toole asked with a hefty sigh.

“Can we…I mean…”

“Just get on with it?”

Officer O’Toole finished Robin’s question and Lt. Copple shook himself out of his stupor. It was his job to process criminals, not to question why they were there. But this was _Robin_ standing in front of him, not a hardened criminal. Maybe it was an undercover mission. Perhaps Batman was checking the efficiency and security of the State Pen by sending in his young counterpart. The most logical explanation: it was a test.

“Of course,” Copple stated professionally as he sat down. “Date of birth.”

“I can’t really…I have an ident…”

Robin’s sentence was cut off by Officer O’Toole again.

“He’s Robin, Batman’s sidekick. Do you really think he would be allowed to tell you anything else?!” the man asked incredulously.

“Are you telling me how to do my job, _Officer_?” Lt. Copple questioned as he stood up again. His six-foot seven frame loomed over the shorter policeman and the much smaller boy.

“No, sir, sorry, sir,” O’Toole replied when he noticed the identifying marks of the lieutenant.

Copple was now irritated. Striding around his desk, the man dismissed the policeman with a wave of his hand and put his own hands on Robin’s shoulders.

“I don’t know why you’re here, Robin, but I’m going to do my job. Arms straight out to the sides, please, so I can search you.”

Robin immediately obeyed, not moving a muscle as Copple thoroughly patted him down. The man removed the boy’s utility belt, then gently grabbed Robin’s right arm and led him into the next room.

The young crime-fighter was given a pair of gray pants, a plain white, long-sleeved shirt, a pair of gray socks and a pair of gray shoes.

“It’s the smallest we have,” Lt. Copple stated apologetically, already knowing that everything would be too big.

Pointing to his right, Copple silently directed Robin to go into a cubicle. There was a curtain and the Boy Wonder understood what he was supposed to do. He changed quickly and was dismayed to find that both the pants and the arms of his shirt were too long for his limbs. The socks went all the way up to his knees and the shoes were almost two sizes too big.

“I’ll get some stuffing for those shoes when I have a chance,” Copple said when Robin stepped out of the changing area. “Did you put your clothes in a locker?”

Robin nodded and handed a small key to the man. Stepping around the young boy, Copple added the utility belt to Robin’s locker then shut and locked it.

“Alright, now to an overnight cell. It’s late, so you won’t receive a regular cell until the morning. Lt. Jameson is the processing officer during the day, so he’ll be working with you tomorrow. Any questions?”

“Yes, sir. Is there anyone else in the overnight cell?” the teenager inquired anxiously.

“No, not tonight, unless someone else comes in later.”

Lt. Copple paused and stared at the pale face of the Boy Wonder.

“Are you okay? No, never mind, don’t answer that. And please don’t tell Batman that I asked a prisoner that question when you discuss the results of your test.”

Robin tilted his head and furrowed his brow quizzically.

“What test?” he asked, genuine curiosity outlining the words.

Copple raised his eyebrows in surprise then took Robin’s arm again.

“You’re right, of course. I know nothing about a test,” the man stated firmly.

He led the teenager out of the changing room and down a long hall. At the end was a large cell, completely devoid of anything. Robin sighed in relief as he dropped his head. At least he could be alone tonight, especially since he knew it would probably be his last night of being able to sleep without fearing for his life.

Without hesitation, Robin walked into the cell. Lt. Copple closed the barred door, locked it and left. The Boy Wonder, facing away from the door, listened to the familiar sound of a key locking him inside a cage. How many times in his young life had he been put in some sort of felonious trap that required a key to keep him contained?

This time, though, it was different. Batman wouldn’t be running in with a key anytime soon. Nor would he come with an idea of how to help Robin escape. Because the Boy Wonder was being lawfully detained, not being used as bait, so there was no logical reason for an escape attempt.

Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly letting it out, he opened his eyes and turned in a circle. One exit – the door – and one small, barred window directly opposite the door. The teenager walked to the window and stared out at the night sky. The full moon was sliced into pieces by the thick bars covering the window. Stars, so difficult to see through the smog of Gotham City, were twinkling brightly and a wisp of a cloud was swaying to the rhythm of a slight breeze.

Images of crazy villains began dancing through his mind. Earlier, Robin had been grateful for an empty cell. It meant one last night of safe slumber. Now, however, it was too dark and too quiet. The Boy Wonder doubted that he would even be able to fall asleep.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he sat down and leaned against the wall. Despite his misgivings, ten minutes later he was fast asleep.

* * *

**The next morning:**

Robin, still fast asleep, was lying on the floor in the far back corner of the cell. His back was to the wall and he was curled into a little ball. Lt. Mark Jameson took out his ring full of keys, which clanged together loudly, and opened the door. There was no movement from the boy and the processing officer rolled his eyes.

Lt. Copple had told him about Batman’s alleged test but Jameson had his doubts. Why would the Caped Crusader essentially throw his sidekick to the wolves? No, if the Boy Wonder was here, it was for a real crime. And the only reason he would be here, instead of under the watchful eyes of either Batman or the Gotham City Police Department, was, Lt. Jameson knew, murder. 

“Up and at ‘em!”

The yell startled Robin and his eyes popped open. He immediately jumped to his feet, instinctively landing in a defensive stance with his fists raised. The sleeves of the too-big shirt flopped over his hands and Lt. Jameson laughed loudly.

“Naptime is over, kid. Time to put you in a real cell. Sure hope you’re not sharing with a villain, for your sake.”

Lt. Jameson motioned toward the open cell door and Robin slowly walked into the hallway. Before the boy even realized what was happening, the processing officer had grabbed the teen’s wrists, pulled them behind Robin’s back and slapped on a pair of handcuffs. 

“Protocol,” the man stated indifferently.

Grabbing the teenager’s right elbow, Lt. Jameson led Robin down the hall, back through the processing office and into another long hall. This one had halls branching off to the right and left and Robin could hear snoring and mumbling coming from every direction. The man led the boy to the elevator and pressed number 6.

A shudder ran down his body as Robin again thought of all the people in this place who hated him. Was one of them about to be his cellmate? Was he even going to last through his second night in prison?

Lt. Jameson detected the trembling of the lithe frame beside him and felt a little bad. It was like he was leading the kid into a den full of hungry lions. As soon as the villains heard that Batman’s sidekick was here…well, there was going to be trouble. The elevator door opened with a soft ‘ding’ and Robin reluctantly stepped out, helped by Jameson’s firm grip on the teen’s small but muscular upper arm.

“I’ll put you in an empty cell for now,” the man stated, a tiny spark of sympathy flitting through the words. “It won’t stay that way for long, though. We’re almost at max capacity.”

Suddenly, a loud ringing burst through the speakers located near the ceiling.

“That’s the wake-up call. Your alone time is almost over so, if you want a final few minutes to yourself, hustle around the next corner.”

The man swiftly led the boy down a narrow hall that suddenly spread out into a long row of prison cells. Every bed had a body, many of them stretching or turning restlessly. Lt. Jameson took Robin to the last cell on the right, quickly opened the door and unlocked the handcuffs.

“No cellmate right now but I can’t guarantee for how long. Breakfast is in ten minutes. The cell doors will pop open; just follow the other inmates to the cafeteria. Good luck.”

Jameson gave the teen a little push into the cell and closed the door behind him. There was a loud ‘click’ and Robin automatically whipped his head around. But the noise was just the man locking the door before leaving the block of cells.

A voice suddenly called out something unintelligible and Robin didn’t waste any time. He fled toward the darkest corner of his new home and curled into a ball, attempting to make himself as small as possible.

“Man, that bell gets louder every day!” a deep voice grumbled.

“Why can’t they just play some soft music to wake us up?” another voice muttered.

“Because, you imbeciles, we’re in prison!”

That last voice, Robin knew exactly who it belonged to. Penguin was in the same cell block as the Boy Wonder. At least it wasn’t…

“Robin, my baby bird, Joker is coming. Joker is coming for yooooouuu. I can’t leave you aliiiiiive ‘cuz you stole him awaaaaay. Joker is coming for yooooouuuu.”

“Shut up, Joker!”

“You wanted music to wake you up!”

“Not from you!”

Penguin, Joker and now Riddler. Of course Robin wouldn’t be lucky enough to be in the same block as regular, run-of-the-mill criminals.

Another shudder rattled his small body and Robin was sure that everyone could hear him gasping as he tried to stave off a panic attack. It was going to be fine. Batman was going to check on him every day. All he had to do was keep a low profile. Don’t let anyone see his still-masked face, blend in with any crowd he could find that didn’t have a career villain in it.

The cell doors suddenly popped open, hitting the bars with a ‘clang’ after fully opening. Stomping footsteps were heading his way, so Robin hid his face on his knees and hoped he was invisible in the shadows. Nobody stopped at his open door and thirty seconds later the doors clanged shut.

_No breakfast but at least they don’t know I’m here. Yet._

* * *

**Commissioner Gordon’s office:**

“What do you want me to say, Batman?” Commissioner Gordon remarked angrily. “Warden Crichton won’t be in his office for another half hour, at least. He supervises all meals, just like almost every guard and officer in the State Pen!”

The commissioner held the phone away from his ear as Batman roared at him from the other end. Why wasn’t the Caped Crusader calling the warden’s office directly, and why couldn’t the hero understand that there was nothing the commissioner could do about this situation? He had no other way to reach Warden Crichton.

“Again, Batman, I’m sorry,” Gordon stated, “but I can’t do anything else for you. Perhaps _you_ should call his office instead of continually demanding _me_ to do it for you!”

For the first time in his life, Commissioner James Gordon hung up on Batman.

* * *

**The Batcave:**

“He just _hung up on me_!” Batman exclaimed loudly as he slammed the Bat-phone down on the desk. 

“Master Batman, he’s frustrated, just as you are,” Alfred stated wisely.

The butler was sweeping the hard floor of the Batcave but decided that it could be finished later. Leaning the broom against the nearest table, Alfred began walking toward the Caped Crusader, hoping to calm the latter man’s temper.

“That doesn’t give him the right to hang up!” the hero nearly yelled.

“Sir, there’s really nothing he can do. He has the exact contact information that you do – the number to the phone in Warden Crichton’s office. If the warden isn’t there, neither of you have a way to reach him short of going to the State Pen.”

“The State Pen,” Batman murmured, his voice instantly full of concern. He raced to the other side of the Batcave, where the machine housing the State Pen Occupancy Report was quietly whirring.

There was a soft ‘ding’ and Batman arrived at the machine just as the information card exited the slot.

“Penguin, Joker, Riddler, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, etc., etc., etc.,” the Caped Crusader growled. “Alfred, they’re all there right now! But the warden wouldn’t put Robin in the same cell block as the villains. They are in a completely different category.”

“Warden Crichton is an intelligent man, Master Batman. I doubt he would even consider putting Master Robin in the same block as career villains, sir.”

Batman sat down on the closest stool and ran a hand down his face. Alfred was right, of course. The warden wouldn’t put Robin in immediate and inescapable danger.

“I’m going to check on him,” Batman suddenly stated. “Now, right now, I need him to see me, I need to see _him_.”

“As Commissioner Gordon just mentioned, sir, it’s breakfast time at the State Pen. Master Robin is undoubtedly in the cafeteria with the rest of the inmates. Do you think it wise, sir, to draw attention to him by having him called to the visitor’s area during breakfast?”

“Of course not, Alfred, you’re right. I’ll give the warden another half hour before I call.”

“I know you’re worried, Master Batman, as am I. But when you see Robin, you cannot have that expression on your face or all of his resolve will crumble.”

“What expression, Alfred?”

“Despair, sir. It is written all over your face. He should not have to see how worried you are about the situation. It will create more stress for him, Master Batman, if he knows he has to find a way to make you feel better.”

“He doesn’t need to make me _feel better_!” Batman yelled as he stood up.

“Sir, he’s Robin. That’s his nature. If he sees how distressed you are, you know he will immediately search for a way to make everything better for you.”

“Taking his focus off of his first priority,” Batman concluded while nodding in agreement with Alfred’s comments.

There was a long pause and then both men softly stated, “Surviving.”

* * *

**State Pen:**

Mrs. Lucinda Martins, secretary to Warden Crichton, sighed as she sat down. It had been a long night – the four-year-old twins had fevers, the baby was teething, and her husband was out of town on business. She wanted to lean back in her chair and take a nap but the warden would be coming up from breakfast soon. His first words upon seeing her would be, “How many meetings today?” followed by, “You look lovely as always.”

This was Warden Crichton’s eleventh year at the helm of the State Pen and Lucinda had been with him since year three. She often wondered if the warden had actually had meetings in those first few years, before she came to work for him. Her answers were always, “None yet” and “Thank you”.

Lucinda’s thoughts were interrupted by the pealing ring of the phone on her desk.

“Warden Crichton’s office,” she answered professionally.

“This is Dr. Coffer. I’m at the Crichton house and I thought you should know that the warden will be out sick for an undetermined amount of time.”

“Oh, my, what happened? Is he dying?!”

During all of Lucinda’s time working with him, Warden Crichton had taken exactly one sick day. And that was only because he had been in a car accident and had to be taken to the hospital. He was back the next day, broken arm in a cast and sprained ankle in a walking boot.

“No,” the doctor answered, “he’s not dying. He has a bad case of pneumonia and the atmosphere and temperature of the State Pen are not conducive to his health. I assume you have an assistant warden who can take care of things. Good day to you.”

Dr. Coffer hung up before Lucinda had a chance to say, “No, we don’t have an assistant warden”. She slowly replaced the phone on its receiver as the wheels in her brain began to turn. Who was she going to find to replace him in the interim? None of the guards would be able to do his job – they knew nothing about it. The only other staff members were the two janitors, a nurse, some cafeteria workers and…her.

“Warden Martins,” she said, testing the name out loud. “Interim Warden Martins. Or is it wardeness? Is that even a word?”

Lucinda was both extremely scared and slightly excited. The first female warden of a major prison, even though it was just for a short time. Hopefully. She picked up the phone again and dialed a familiar number.

“Crichton house, may I ask who is calling?”

“This is Lucinda Martins, Warden Crichton’s secretary. Please tell him that everything will be taken care of while he is gone. The State Pen is in capable hands and all of us here wish him a full and speedy recovery.”

“Thank you for the information. I will let him know as soon as he awakens. He was very worried about it last night. Do you already have an interim warden?”

“We do,” Lucinda quickly replied, “and I need to get everything ready. Thank you!”

She hung up the phone before the person on the other end of the line could ask the identity of the interim warden. Standing up, Lucinda walked into the office of Warden Crichton and looked around. 

“Warden Martins,” she murmured as she strolled around the large desk.

Lucinda didn’t want power, or money, or fame. In fact, she didn’t even care if she was the only one who knew that she was in charge. Nobody ever came to the warden’s office, except for Commissioner Gordon once in a while and, on a few occasions, Batman. As long as orders were issued, people were paid and nobody escaped, there was no reason to let anyone know that Warden Crichton was out indefinitely.

The shrieking of the bell ending breakfast startled her out of her thoughts. The inmates were about to go outside. Now was a good time to go over the occupancy list and read through several other important papers. A warden must always know what is going on in her prison.

* * *

The shrieking of the bell startled Robin, also. He had been standing up for the last ten minutes, pacing in the shadow of the eastern wall in his cell. He was barefoot, the legs of the pants were rolled up to his knees and the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to his elbows. It was cold, but at least he could move without the restrictions of clothes that were way too big for his small frame.

Robin really wished he knew the daily schedule. He didn’t want to be surprised every time the bell screeched, and he really didn’t want to wonder about what was going to happen next. Showers, yard time, meals, was there anything else? The Boy Wonder had never studied a prison bell schedule; he and Batman had never discussed a situation like this. Because why would a member of the _Dynamic Duo_ need to know what happens when locked up in the State Pen?

He was standing completely still, listening carefully. There were no footsteps coming from any direction. No talking or yelling or creepy singing. Everything was quiet, and Robin was grateful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, TaylorAriel! :)

**The Batcave:**

Batman picked up the Bat-phone and called Commissioner Gordon’s office. He knew he should apologize – Alfred had, in fact, made him promise to do so – but he didn’t feel like doing it now.

“Batman,” the commissioner answered stiffly.

Commissioner Gordon also knew he needed to apologize. He should not have hung up on the Caped Crusader, no matter how frustrated they both were. But he, too, didn’t feel like doing it now.

“Please connect me with Warden Crichton’s office,” the hero said gruffly.

Both men silently sighed; they had just had this conversation thirty-two minutes ago and neither man wanted to repeat the ending of _that_ discussion. Commissioner Gordon decided to acquiesce the request, even though he knew Batman could call the warden himself.

“Just a moment,” the older man replied, his tone laced with both frustration and sympathy.

There was a long pause and then a woman answered the phone.

“Warden Crichton’s office, how may I help you?”

“Mrs. Martins, am I correct?” Batman asked, although he already knew he was.

“Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Batman. I need to speak to Warden Crichton.”

“I’m sorry, Batman, but he is unavailable. I’ll be happy to take a message for you.”

“No, this is something I can only discuss with him.”

“Well, then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you.”

Lucinda waited for an answer but all she heard was a dial tone.

“Sir, maybe you should have left a message.”

“Alfred, the less people who know about Robin’s current residence, the better.”

“I know, Master Batman, and I agree. However, now you have to wait and call again later. If you had left a message – even just a ‘call me back as soon as possible’ – Mrs. Martins could have given it to him as soon as she sees him.”

“I assume she is smart enough to tell the warden that I called. Of course he’ll call me back as soon as possible.”

“Of course, sir. I’m just worried about young Master Robin, sitting a cell with who-knows-what criminal and waiting for you to come check on him.”

Batman suddenly grabbed the Bat-phone and threw it across the room, where it hit a wall and shattered.

“My word, sir, there was no cause for that!” Alfred exclaimed quietly. “It’s a good thing we have Bat-replacements for almost everything.”

“I’m going. The warden can deal with a surprise visit,” the Caped Crusader almost yelled. “What is he doing right now, what’s the schedule?” he demanded angrily.

“I don’t know, Master Batman,” Alfred replied somewhat icily. “Perhaps, sir, you should look it up on the Bat-computer.”

Growling, Batman marched over to the Bat-computer and started pushing buttons. Thirty-three seconds later a card popped out of the exit slot.

“Breakfast – 6:30 for half an hour. How do they feed that many people in half an hour? Yard time – half an hour. Showers – half an hour. How do they…. Forget it. Cells until lunch. That’s four hours of cell time! He’s going to need something to do.”

The last sentence was murmured thoughtfully before Batman continued.

“Lunch – noon for half an hour. Yard time – half an hour. Cells until dinner – another four hours. Dinner – 5:00 for half an hour. Rec time for inmates with good behavior – one hour. Cells until the next morning at breakfast. He’s going to go stir crazy with all that inactive time.”

“I’m sure Warden Crichton will allow you to bring something for Master Robin, sir. Books, perhaps?”

“I’ll make up a work-out schedule for him,” Batman stated as if he hadn’t even heard his butler. “Specific exercises that can be done in a small prison cell. I’ll have the warden put him on library duty. That’s safe; I don’t know of any villains that like to read.”

Batman strode toward the Batmobile as he spoke. Alfred could hear ideas still coming out of the hero’s mouth as the vehicle roared down the tunnel toward the exit.

* * *

**State Pen – 30 minutes later:**

Mrs. Martins wasn’t at her desk. Unusual, Batman mused as he tapped on the door to Warden Crichton’s office. There was no answer so he walked in and was surprised to see the secretary looking thoughtfully at some paperwork on the warden’s desk.

“Where is Warden Crichton?” Batman asked by way of greeting.

“Still unavailable, Batman, I’m sorry,” Lucinda replied as she looked up.

“I need to talk to him. NOW!”

“I can’t do anything about that, Batman. If you’ll just tell me…”

“Like I said on the phone, it can only be between Warden Crichton and myself.”

“If you’ll let me…”

“When will he be back?”

“I don’t know. Can I just explain…”

“How do you not know?! You’re his secretary!”

“Yes, if you’ll just let me…”

“I’ll wait.”

Batman sat down on the chair closest to him and folded his arms across his chest.

“Um, I don’t know, there’s something…”

“I. Will. Wait.”

“Okay, but you should know…”

“Do I need to repeat myself again?”

“Batman, I’m trying to explain! Will you just listen? Please,” Lucinda added when a Bat-glare was sent in her direction.

“There is nothing to explain, Mrs. Martins. I need to speak to Warden Crichton, who apparently is a very hard man to get a hold of right now, so I’ll wait for him to return. He has to come back to his office _sometime_. Just go about your business and I’ll wait here.”

Lucinda scowled as Batman looked away. If he would just let her explain the situation, he would probably tell _her_ what was so important. But, if he was just going to be rude about it then she would just let him wait. All day. Maybe he would actually listen to her when the lights out bell rang and she packed up to go home.

Grabbing the papers she had been perusing off the warden’s desk, Lucinda marched out the door and sat down at her desk. Important papers could be read anywhere.

* * *

While Batman was up in Warden Crichton’s office, waiting in vain for the man to return, Robin was doing pushups in his cell. He had already done sit ups and was thinking about doing pull ups next, using the bars on the small window on the south wall. But his thoughts were interrupted by another screeching bell.

He didn’t know what time it was, but Robin estimated that he had been in this tiny cell for almost two hours. So, he was not surprised when footsteps began pounding down the halls, echoing in all directions and giving him a headache. Other loud noises joined in – talking, laughing, some angry yells – and the Boy Wonder was pretty sure he was going to have a continuous headache while he was in here.

The footsteps were coming closer so Robin quickly slid under the bunk bed and tried to calm his breathing. There were no shadows in his cell right now so it was the only place that might help him stay out of sight of the other prisoners.

All the cell doors opened with a ‘clang’ and Robin watched distinctive, familiar shoes pass by his cell. Then two pairs of shoes stopped, right in front of his door. One was obviously a guard but the other was unfamiliar.

“I guess you’re alone for now,” a gruff voice said. “Enjoy your stay.”

A large pair of brown shoes stumbled into the cell just before all the doors closed. It was obvious to Robin that the guard had given the new inmate a “gentle” shove, just as Lt. Jameson had done to him this morning.

“Hey newbie,” Joker shouted from his cell, “what’s your name?”

“Mind your own business.”

The voice was deep and sounded dangerous. The criminal took three steps then sat down on the bottom bunk. Robin shrunk back against the wall as the bed sank down slightly.

“We can’t help you if we don’t know who you are!” Penguin cackled. “When we escape, we won’t take you with us!”

“Mind. Your. Business.”

The voice was completely unfamiliar. Robin really hoped that Batman was going to come check on him soon. He scowled at himself in his head. He was the Boy Wonder, he wasn’t going to be scared of a voice he didn’t recognize and he wasn’t going to let Batman know that he was actually terrified. Batman was worried enough; Robin wasn’t going to make it worse by telling him who was in his cell block. 

_He will want to know._

_It will stress him out._

_He needs to know the level of danger._

_He needs to know I’m safe, that’s all. Relatively safe, anyway._

_You’re not safe. Joker, Penguin, Riddler, Deep Voice._

_Nobody knows I’m here. I’m safe._

_For now._

* * *

**Four hours later:**

The bell screeched again and Robin was both relieved and terrified. He had been underneath the bunk bed the entire time and his body was one large cramp. It felt like he had been there for a week and his muscles had been begging for action for a long time.

Assuming it was time for lunch, the Boy Wonder began stretching his limbs. Well, as best he could while lying on his side and pinned down by a sagging mattress with a large body resting on it. The teen’s cellmate got up, stomped to the door and waited for it to open. The person was impatient; Robin could tell by the way the feet were shifting around.

The doors opened with their now-familiar ‘clang’ and Robin stopped moving. He waited for all the shoes to pass by his cell and then waited some more for the loud footsteps to fade. Rolling out from under the bed, he slowly stood up and winced as imaginary needles started poking his limbs. Everything had fallen asleep and every movement was slightly painful. But, the Boy Wonder was hungry – he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since lunch yesterday.

So, ignoring the slicing needles, Robin stumbled toward his cell door. Just as he was about to step over the threshold, it slammed in his face. He grabbed the bars and shook them but the door was locked and he was still inside.

“No lunch, either,” he whispered sadly.

His stomach growled, taunting him, and Robin closed his eyes. He had gone without food for over a day before, he could do it again. It wasn’t going to be fun, but he could do it. This was something else Batman was not going to know about.

Robin’s throat was dry, and he realized that he had never gone this long without water. But, again, he could do it. He was a little dizzy but not enough to worry him. Everything was going to be fine. He was Robin, the Boy Wonder. He could do it. No problem.

* * *

**Warden Crichton’s office:**

Batman had been pacing for the last hour. Where was the warden?! Shouldn’t the man be back from wherever he had gone by now? What kind of warden leaves his prison for already half the day?

“Are you hungry, Batman? I can bring you a sandwich when I come back from lunch.”

Lucinda’s voice interrupted his thoughts and the Caped Crusader realized that he was, indeed, hungry. Maybe he should go down to the prison cafeteria and eat there. Then he was bound to see either Warden Crichton or Robin.

“Okay,” Lucinda stated after several moments of silence. She assumed that the hero was going to continue being rude, even though she had just been nice enough to offer to bring him something.

“I’ll go to the cafeteria,” Batman stated firmly.

“Oh, then you’ll have to wait until the inmates have eaten. Nobody except the guards and cafeteria workers are allowed inside while the prisoners are having meals.”

“Warden Crichton can make an exception,” the Caped Crusader growled.

“Actually, he can’t,” Lucinda replied. “As I was trying to tell you earlier…”

“Yes, he _can_ ,” Batman barked angrily.

Throwing her hands in the air, the usually calm Lucinda Martins yelled, “If you’re not going to listen to me you might as well just leave!”

“Fine,” Batman snarled as he stalked out the door.

There was a prison map on the wall right over the secretary’s desk. Batman glanced at it, memorized the layout and strode away.

“You’re going to regret this,” Lucinda murmured as she watched him leave. Nobody got in or out of the cafeteria during mealtimes. Not even Batman.

* * *

Robin was sitting on the hard ground, his back against the bars of his cell and his forehead on his bent knees. Going without water for over twenty-four hours was difficult, more difficult than he could have imagined. He felt like the energy was draining out of him, as if the liquid he required was oozing out of his pores and sliding down his whole body.

The bell rang again, and Robin waited for the pounding footsteps. But there were none, so he closed his eyes and tried to take a nap.

* * *

The end-of-lunch bell rang just as Batman reached the barred door leading to the cafeteria. Yard time was next; Robin would be outside. His stomach growled but that feeling was, at the moment, unimportant. He needed to see his partner, and he really hoped the boy was uninjured.

A guard noticed the hero standing at the door and sauntered over.

“Whaddya’ need?”

“I need to see Warden Crichton. Immediately.”

“The warden ain’t here, hasn’t been all day.”

“You haven’t seen him at all?!”

“Thas what I jus’ said, ain’t it?”

“Open this door and let me in.”

The guard stared at Batman skeptically and then laughed boisterously.

“I ain’t got the key to this door. Only the warden has that one.”

“Then how…”

“Lemme jus’ tell you, Batman. We all stay inside, prisoners and guards, until yard time or unless Warden Crichton specifically tells us ta come out. But prisoners ain’t leaving through this door, they go straight to the yard.”

Pointing to the opposite side of the now-empty cafeteria, the guard continued, “They leave through there. After outside time, they go through another door and back to their cells. Ain’t nobody comin’ or goin’ through this door without Warden Crichton’s permission and key.”

“ _They why is there even a door here_?!” Batman roared.

“It leads to the warden’s office, straight shot so he can get back ta work after meals.”

Without another word, Batman turned around and strode back toward the warden’s office. Lucinda had tried to tell him, but he had ignored her. In fact, he recalled as he climbed the stairs, she had been trying to tell him something all morning. But whatever it was didn’t matter. All he needed to do was talk to Warden Crichton who, to Batman’s knowledge, had never been out of his office for more than two hours at a time. So where was he now?

* * *

The bell screeched again but Robin was so deep in sleep that he didn’t even stir. Noises began echoing down the halls, footsteps and voices and even the sound of a fist hitting flesh. But the teenager slept through it all.

“Hey newbie, you got a roommate!” Joker cackled as he walked past the door.

He kicked the bars, startling Robin into awareness. The teenager, without thinking, lifted his head.

“Boy Blunder?!” Joker screeched. “What are _you_ doing here?!”

Robin jumped to his feet as the doors to all the cells swung open.

_So much for keeping a low profile._

“The bird is here without the bat,” Penguin remarked as he strolled past. “How delightful it will be at dinner. Where have you been all morning?”

“Under the bed,” a deep voice growled the reply.

Robin backed up and dropped into a defensive stance. He was about to meet his cellmate. How the man had known he was under the bed was something to figure out later, when his life was in less danger. If that ever happened in here.

“Move along, Joker. Come on, Riddler. Let’s go, everyone to your nice rooms.”

Several guards pushed their way through the crowd now gathering around Robin’s cell. Nightsticks at the ready, they began shoving the inmates toward their respective cells.

A large shadow filled the doorway and Robin stared up at the most muscular man he had ever seen. The guy’s muscles had muscles and the Boy Wonder was suddenly terrified. He had no way of escaping this situation, other than fighting and beating the guy. If he won the fight, the hulk of a man would leave him alone.

_Win?! Try ‘survive’._

Robin knew he couldn’t win and knew he was going to leave his cell today in either a body bag or on a stretcher on his way to the infirmary. There was no room to dodge the man’s attacks and his speed could only hold off the guy for so long. The first good hit would take him down, but Robin was the Boy Wonder. He was going to do his best until he couldn’t anymore.

The cell door shut with the ‘clang’ and the teenager’s breathing increased. His heart was beating rapidly, he was still dizzy, and the pounding in his head intensified.

“Relax, kid, I’m not going to fight you.”

His eyes widened in shock, but his fists stayed up. There was no way Robin was going to trust this guy.

“If I wanted to fight you, you’d already be on the ground. Seriously, relax.”

The man strode around Robin, who circled with him so his back wouldn’t be turned on his opponent. Sitting on the bottom bunk, the big man sighed heavily.

“You see this?” the man asked, holding up a giant fist. “This could take you out, easily. But I’m not a fighter and I’m not going to do anything to you.”

Dropping his fist, he continued, “I know it’s hard to trust someone you don’t know, especially a _criminal_ ,” he spat the word in disgust, “but I’m not going to hurt you. Name’s Ned. What are you in for?”

“A mistake,” Robin stated confidently, although the way he was feeling belied the bravado in his voice.

“Me, too,” Ned replied.

They stared into each other’s eyes, light-blue searching sea-green for any sign of a lie. There was none, and Robin relaxed marginally. His fists stayed up, but the tension drained out of his shoulders.

“They think I killed a man,” Ned whispered sorrowfully. “He was already dead, I was just trying to help him. How can you know a person’s dead if you haven’t checked the body? His blood was all over my hands and the knife was on the floor a few feet away from me. There’s no justice in Gotham City; I’m dead meat.”

“Who was it?” Robin asked as he relaxed a little more.

“I don’t even know. I went into the convenience store, picked up some snacks and went to pay for them. Nobody was at the register, so I rang the bell and waited for at least two minutes. Then I heard what sounded like a gasp, so I looked over the counter and there he was. Lying on the ground, blood all around him, not moving. All I did was go around the counter to check on him. Police came right as I pushed on the stab wound to stop the bleeding. Like I said, dead meat.”

By now the teenager had dropped his fists and was standing tall. There was truth ringing throughout the man’s story and Robin was no longer concerned about taking a beating.

“Were…”

“No cameras, kid, so I have no way to back up my story. What would _you_ think if you came in and saw that scene?”

Robin stayed quiet and the man sighed again.

“Dead. Meat.”

“What did you do, Boy Blunder, steal some candy from a baby?”

Joker’s whiny voice sounded extra creepy in the prison hallway and Robin shuddered. He was going to take a beating later tonight, of that he was certain.

“Leave him alone, he’s a kid. What’s he going to do, talk you to death?” Ned yelled back.

“He is very good at that,” Riddler giggled. “Chatterbox, chatterbox, Robin is a chatterbox!”

“Robin?” Ned asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “Your name is Robin?”

The teenager was a little nervous at the man’s tone. How much did Ned know about the Dynamic Duo and was he going to change his mind about fighting?

“Yep,” Joker called, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “Robin, Robbie, Boy Blunder, Kid Idiot…”

“Shut up,” Robin growled, throwing a glare over his shoulder even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see the Clown Prince of Crime.

“As in, Batman’s sidekick Robin?” Ned asked, his tone now incredulous.

This time it was Penguin who answered for Robin.

“That’s right, Batman’s baby bird,” the villain sang, ending the phrase with a very duck-sounding cackle.

Ned stood up, his large frame making the teenager feel like a first grader.

“You know I could just take off your mask,” Ned stated. “One punch, lights out for you and I find out your identity.”

Dropping into a defensive stance again, Robin snarled, “Don’t even try it.”

“I’m not going to,” the man replied, stretching his arms over his head. “You’re my son’s hero. You saved him once – he fell on the subway tracks and you grabbed him before he could get run over.”

Robin dropped his fists again, surprised at the revelation. He remembered it well; the train had almost taken off his leg. Alfred had to make him a new pair of tights because they were scorched from the heat of the wheel grinding on the tracks and throwing sparks on him.

Sitting down again, Ned said, “I got your back.”

The words were so quiet that even Robin could barely hear them, so he knew nobody else knew that he now had an ally in the State Pen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!

Batman had been pacing in the outer office for nearly an hour, impatiently waiting for Lucinda to return. He was going to call Warden Crichton’s house, but apparently it was a _very_ private number. Not even Alfred and the Bat-computer or Bat-index of Gotham City Residences had been able to give him the number. However, the man’s secretary would have it out of necessity.

“How on earth did Ned Pucker get in here?”

The Caped Crusader heard the woman’s voice before she appeared.

“Murder!” she gasped. “This must be some kind of mistake.”

Batman’s eyes widened slightly. How, he wondered, did she know _why_ someone was in the State Pen? That was eyes-only information for the warden.

“Where did you get that information?” Batman growled as Lucinda walked into the outer office.

“Oh, you startled me!” Lucinda shrieked as she dropped the papers she had been carrying.

They floated toward the floor and she began attempting to grab them before they landed. Batman, gentleman that he was – although sometimes he didn’t show it – began helping. The title of the first paper he read was, “State Pen List of Inmates and Crimes”.

“Why do you have this paper?” the Caped Crusader growled at the secretary again.

“I’ve been trying to tell you all morning. It’s not my fault you continue to interrupt me whenever I begin explaining.”

“I’m listening,” Batman grumbled.

"Warden Crichton has a bad case of pneumonia and, per doctor’s orders, will be out indefinitely. I’m Interim Warden. Is your conversation still _only_ for Warden Crichton?”

“I need to speak to Robin. Send him to the visitor area immediately,” he commanded. “I’ll wait there.”

Without another word, Batman strode out the door toward the section where he would be able to check on his fifteen-year-old partner.

“The only Robin…” Lucinda began but Batman was gone before she could finish her sentence.

“…is a woman,” she sighed.

She flipped through the three pages of the inmates list, searching for something she may have missed. Nope, the only Robyn was in Cell Block H, in the women’s section of the State Pen.

* * *

**Half an hour later:**

“Why isn’t he here yet?” Batman murmured.

A burly guard was walking around the perimeter of the visitor area, glancing at Batman every thirty seconds. Who was he waiting for? Batman had been here several times, always to question inmates, so why wasn’t there someone sitting in front of him being interrogated?

Standing up, Batman stalked to the guard, stopping the man in his tracks.

“Why isn’t my prisoner here yet?” he growled.

“I don’t know who your prisoner is, Batman,” the guard replied, a little nervously.

“Don’t you have a way to look it up? Isn’t that part of why you’re here?!”

“Yes, sorry.”

The guard practically ran to his computer and began typing.

“Um, there’s no prisoner listed next to your name, Batman, because your name isn’t even on the list.”

“ _How is my name not on the list?!_ ” he roared. “I told that woman half an hour ago that I needed to see Robin immediately!”

“Um, woman? Warden Crichton is the one who gives the green light for a prisoner to be brought down. He hasn’t been down here, I haven’t even heard from him, and there’s no name listed for either visitor or prisoner.”

“Warden Crichton is out today,” Batman stated angrily, “and Lucinda Martins is in charge. For now,” he muttered under his breath.

“Out?”

At Batman’s dark glare, the guard timidly declared, “I can call her!”

“THEN DO IT!”

Turning away from the computer, the guard picked up the phone and dialed the number for the warden’s secretary. It rang ten times before he replaced the receiver.

“She, um, didn’t answer.”

“ _I was just up there! Do it again!”_

Batman was roaring every time he spoke and the young guard was now terrified. Picking up the phone, he redialed the number and waited. The Caped Crusader’s Bat-glare was intensifying and the guard had no idea what to do. How was he supposed to tell the woman to send whoever it was to the visitor area if she wouldn’t answer the phone?!

“Forget it,” Batman snarled. “Let me see the occupancy list.”

“I’m sorry, Batman, but only the warden…”

“ _FORGET IT!”_ the hero exploded, throwing his arms in the air as he turned around and walked away.

When he was out of sight of the guard, Batman began sprinting down the hall toward the stairs that would lead him to the office of Interim Warden Martins.

* * *

The bell screamed and the cell block fell quiet. It wasn’t dinner time so why had the bell gone off?

“Half hour of rec time,” a well-muscled guard called out as he walked down the hallway. “Guess the warden’s feeling nice today.”

Cell doors clanged open and the inmates poured out, heading for the large recreation room. There was a television, a small bookshelf filled to capacity and many, many board games.

Ned waited until the other villains had all passed before stepping out into the hall. Robin followed and stayed on the big man’s heels all the way to the rec room. Fourteen guards were roving around the room and most of the inmates were watching a football game on the TV. Ned sat on the couch closest to the exit and Robin, not wanting to appear weak, leaned against the wall on the other side of the door.

The large man glanced sideways at Robin but the teenager didn’t make a move. His arms were folded across his chest, his right ankle was crossed over his left and his eyes were exuding confidence. Ned was pretty sure the kid was at least a little scared, but the young crime-fighter certainly wasn’t showing it.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness. Joker cackled deviously, Riddler giggled maniacally and all the inmates tried to find Robin in the pitch-black room. He had a lot of enemies; the Dynamic Duo put more regular criminals in prison than they did villains.

Robin felt hands all around him and realized that seeming weak might have been better than leaving himself vulnerable to attack. Ned, still on the couch, recognized that he was going to have to fight his way out of this. Half a dozen men were attacking him in the dark, but he knew he was strong enough to get through them. The one he was worried about was Robin. He knew the Boy Wonder could handle himself, but he was sure that almost everyone in the room wanted revenge on the Dynamic Duo. And since Robin was the only one here, he would be the one accepting the consequences.

The Boy Wonder was also attempting to fight his way out of this. But there were at least eight men working on him and he was trapped against the wall. There was nowhere to escape to, no way to use his speed to his advantage. He was receiving more hits than he was giving and he could already feel his face swelling. 

What felt like a stone blade hit him across the chest and everyone heard the Boy Wonder’s grunt of pain.

“My hand!” a voice screamed near Robin’s left ear.

He flinched at the noise but was relieved that it was only a bony hand and not some sort of weapon. The teenager was also relieved that nothing had been broken, or even cracked. It had knocked the wind out of him, though, and he was distracted from his attempt to defend himself.

A meaty hand slapped itself hard on the side of his head and Robin saw stars. Then he saw faces and sneers and glares and several fists as the lights came back on. He was able to dodge the biggest fist that was flying toward his nose but got caught on the chin with a second, smaller fist. The third one slammed into his solar plexus and the teenager was again forced to fight for air.

Suddenly people were being pulled away from him. Guards were yelling and Ned’s face unexpectedly appeared right in front of Robin, his eyes full of concern.

“They got you pretty good, kid,” the large man stated quietly. “I’ll see if we can get you to the infirmary.”

Robin slid to the ground as Ned stood up to ask a guard about the infirmary. His right hand rose to his chest as he gasped for air. By this time the guards had all the prisoners – with the exception of Ned and Robin – either cowering or unconscious on the floor.

The teen tried to slow down his breathing and calm his erratic heartbeat. He knew he had been lucky, this time. It was much harder to find someone you wanted to beat up in the darkness, even if you knew his approximate location beforehand.

“You look a little lost, Robin,” Ned said as he crouched in front of the boy.

The Boy Wonder’s light-blue eyes were cloudy and his small body was trembling. Ned remembered that Robin hadn’t come out from under the bed before lunch. How long had it been since the boy had eaten?

“Hey, you with me?” the man asked quietly, waving his hand in front of Robin’s face.

Robin blinked sluggishly several times and then whispered, “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Whadda’ we got here?”

The same guard that had spoken to Batman was now standing over Robin and Ned, scowling. He hated cleaning up after riots, especially the part where the injured had to be carted off to the infirmary. It was all the way on the other side of the prison and such a long round trip! And sometimes he had to stay there, in case the criminal decided to try to escape.

“Uh, possible concussion, swollen left eye, split lip and breathing hurts,” Robin mumbled.

“Nothin’ broken?” the guard asked.

The teenager moved his right hand down his chest and wearily probed his ribs. No sharp edges or anything else that would indicate a broken rib. Probably just some deep bone bruises. Breathing would become less painful in a few hours.

“No, I don’t think so,” Robin replied with a slight wheeze.

“Good, offta your cell then, like ever’body else.”

“Have you seen his face?!” Ned shouted.

Robin flinched and the guard put his hand on the nighstick sitting on his hip.

“Yeah. Do you see any bones stickin’ outta his skin?” the man replied angrily. “No,” he answered his own question without waiting for an answer, “so he can go back ta his cell, like I said. Get going!”

The guard nudged Robin with his foot and the Boy Wonder slowly got to his feet.

“No weakness,” he mumbled, and Ned knew exactly what he meant.

“No weakness,” the man repeated and dropped his hands, which had been about to grab the swaying body of the boy.

They began the short walk back to their cell, the annoyed guard following closely. Their cell was at the end of the block; they had to pass everybody on the way there. Yelled insults and evil cackles assaulted them on their journey and didn’t stop when they arrived. The guard unlocked the door and gave Ned a poke in the back with his nightstick. The big man gently pushed Robin in and was barely inside himself when the cell door was slammed and locked.

“That was the appetizer, Boy Blunder!” Joker yelled out. “It’s almost dinner time!”

Robin stumbled to the ladder that led to the top bunk and attempted to climb up. Again, Ned put his hands up and this time the teenager let him help. The big man carefully pushed him up then helped him lay down.

“Not going to dinner,” Robin muttered. “Need to rest for next round. Can’t handle a next round yet.”

“It will be hard to fight the next round on an empty stomach,” Ned replied. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m fine,” the teenager answered with a quiet gasp. “Thanks for the help. I’m fine,” he repeated.

Shaking his head, Ned sat down on the lower bunk and began searching for a solution to the newest problem: how to sneak some food back to his cell.

* * *

Lucinda wasn’t in the outer office and the warden’s office was locked. He started repeatedly pounding on the door but there was no sound from inside.

“RIOT IN THE REC ROOM!”

The shouted sentence came from all the way down in the yard, but Batman still heard it. Glancing at the map again, although he had memorized it, he found the rec room and raced away. Guards would be thankful for the help of the Caped Crusader during a riot. Hopefully, Robin wasn’t there.

He made it to the door that led to the hall leading to the rec room just as it slammed shut and automatically locked. There was a short, skinny man at the desk to his right, so Batman turned to him and glared.

“Open it up,” he commanded.

“Can’t,” the white-haired guard replied cheerily. “Riot means a lockdown. I don’t have the password or authority to unlock a lockdown. It’ll most likely be over soon, lots of guards in the rec room. What can I do for you?”

“Tell me who is in the rec room,” Batman demanded.

“Oh, let me see.”

The old guard pushed some buttons and typed some letters.

“Hm, that’s unusual,” he murmured.

“What?!” Batman yelled. “What’s unusual?”

“Warden didn’t give anyone permission for rec time. Must have been a fluke, or a mix-up with the schedule. Can’t help you, sorry.”

Batman slammed his hand on the desk. The blue-gray eyes of the guard widened.

“I need to see Robin. NOW!”

“Robin as in…your sidekick?” the old man inquired, surprise filling his voice. “I can’t help you there, either. I don’t have access to the occupancy list of names and why would _Robin_ even be on it? I _can_ tell you that we currently have two hundred and twelve inmates.”

“Where is Lucinda Martins?” Batman growled.

“Batman, I have one job. I’m not in charge of lockdowns, or knowing who everyone is, or finding people or even guarding prisoners. I open the door for guards. Nothing more, nothing less. I. Can’t. Help. You.”

The guard, annoyed with the obviously frustrated hero, stood up and walked away. There was a filing cabinet about three yards behind him and he opened the top drawer and began rifling through it. Batman was not going to tell him what to do.

Taking a deep breath, the Caped Crusader asked, “How long does the average lockdown last? If there’s a riot, I mean.”

With a sigh of irritation, the old man replied, “Do you really think there’s a _usual_ or _average_ amount of time for a lockdown? It’ll be over when it’s over. Feel free to sit and wait.”

The guard returned to his files and Batman ran a hand down his face. It was close to dinner time and he hadn’t even seen his young partner yet. What if Robin was in the middle of the riot? What if there were too many for him to handle? There were no friends of the Boy Wonder in the State Pen, of that Batman was sure.

_The guards are perfectly capable of stopping a riot in a closed room._

_What if they don’t stop it in time?_

_Robin can take care of himself._

_Odds are heavily stacked against him in a riot._

_He’ll be okay. He might get a little banged up but he’ll…_

“Survive,” Batman whispered as he turned and began walking back the way he had come.

The Caped Crusader left the prison and climbed into the Batmobile. Maybe the Bat-computer could give him Warden Crichton’s address. Hopefully the man was on the mend because Batman needed him back in charge as soon as possible.

* * *

Dinner time came and went while Robin laid on the top bunk. Ned came back with some bread he had stuffed into his pocket. The Boy Wonder accepted it gratefully, but it burned his dry throat as it went down. At least he had been able to eat it. Now if only he could somehow get a drink of water.

Around 8:30, a short but muscular guard arrived at Robin’s cell. He unlocked it and motioned to Ned.

“Interim warden wants to see you,” the guard stated. “I don’t know anything about it, so don’t ask.”

With a glance back at Robin, Ned walked out of the cell.

“Lt. Copple told me to give these to you, kid,” the guard continued as he tossed something on the floor. Then he locked the door and led the big man down the hall and out of sight.

“Interim warden?” the teenager whispered, a little confused. Why would Warden Crichton be gone? Unless…was the man dead?!

Robin stayed awake long into the night, waiting for Ned to come back and fill him in. The lights out bell rang, beds creaked, and snores began wafting down the hall, but Ned didn’t come back.

The last thought Robin had before finally falling asleep was:

_Batman didn’t come._


	6. Chapter 6

Batman couldn’t believe that he had spent the entire day at the State Pen and hadn’t seen his partner at all. He had promised, _promised_ , Robin that he would check on him every day. But he hadn’t even been able to do it on the first day of the boy’s incarceration!

The hero remembered the look of terror in the Boy Wonder’s eyes when he had asked the commissioner to try to speed up the hearing. There were so many reasons for Robin to be terrified, the most worrisome was the list of villains currently inside with him.

But, as Alfred had said, Warden Crichton wouldn’t put him in the same cell block with villains who hated him.

“Warden Crichton’s not there. She never sent Robin to the visitor area. Does she even know where he is?”

The Batmobile coasted to a stop in the Batcave as Batman spoke his thoughts. Robin had been taken to the State Pen late last night. Did Lucinda Martins know to check the processing log? Did the guard who processed him think about avoiding the villains’ cell block when finding a space for Robin?

“Sir, there’s an interim warden at the State Pen.”

“I _know that_ , Alfred!”

“Please allow me to finish, Master Batman,” the butler stated patiently.

Batman mumbled something under his breath and folded his arms across his chest. Alfred internally sighed when he heard, “…already know…”.

"Commissioner Gordon,” the faithful butler continued, “received a call from this person…”

“Lucinda Martins,” Batman interrupted irritably.

“Yes, sir, and gave him a message to give to Batman.”

“Let me guess, she’s sorry she wasn’t around the rest of the day,” the Caped Crusader commented sarcastically.

“For heaven’s sake, sir, let me finish!” Alfred exclaimed sharply.

There was no reply so the older man resumed his statement.

“She told him that the only Robin at the State Pen is a woman whose name is spelled with a ‘y’. There is no record of any other Robin.”

“ _WHAT_?” Batman exploded, dropping his arms in astonishment. “ _How can there be no record of him_?!” he roared.

Alfred almost covered his ears as the thunderous words echoed around the Batcave but was able to restrain himself.

“I assume, Master Batman, that you were not able to see him today.”

This time it was the man’s cowl that was thrown across the Batcave. Batman had ripped it off his head and used it to manifest his frustration.

“I _promised_ him, Alfred!” the younger man shouted, both distress and fury surrounding the words.

“Sir…”

“Anything could have happened to him today and he didn’t even get to see me! _I. PROMISED. HIM!_ ”

Bruce Wayne dropped onto the nearest chair, put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.

Alfred was, for one of the few times in his long life, unsure of what to do or say. Batman was right: he had promised to check on Robin every day and that promise had already been broken. It was the teenager’s first day in one of the scariest places he would ever be, and Batman hadn’t come to check on him.

“Perhaps, sir, you could go over there and Bat-climb your way…”

“I don’t even know where he is,” Batman interrupted quietly. “Apparently nobody does. All the people I talked to were clueless, they didn’t even know he was incarcerated!”

“That’s one small piece of good news, Master Bruce,” Alfred replied. “He’s keeping a low profile. I’m sure Batman would have been contacted if his young counterpart was in the infirmary, sir.”

“But…he’s Dick now!” Bruce exclaimed as he lifted his head.

“I’m also sure, sir, that Officer O’Toole – the transferring officer you told me about – wouldn’t allow him to be stripped of his identity.”

“O’Toole’s a good man,” Bruce agreed. “Hopefully Robin’s not in uniform, though. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“The young master’s identity can still be preserved with only his mask, Master Bruce.”

“I don’t know what else to do, Alfred,” Bruce whispered. “The day is over, he’s probably asleep by now. I _promised_ him.”

The faithful butler stood still, silently waiting for his oldest charge to regain control of his emotions. The two tiny tears that slid down the cheeks of Bruce Wayne didn’t escape Alfred’s notice, but he chose not to say anything.

Silence reigned for several minutes. Finally, Bruce stood up and ran a hand down his face to erase any evidence. With a quick nod to his butler, the man slowly walked to his Batpole and shot himself up to the Manor.

Now it was Alfred who dropped onto the nearest chair. His thoughts immediately turned to Robin, who was probably terrified. The boy, after accepting the fact that Batman hadn’t come to check on him, was going to feel completely alone. Alfred didn’t even try to stop the tears that began sliding down his cheeks.

* * *

**The State Pen – Warden Crichton’s office:**

Ned Pucker was standing in front of Lucinda Martins, wondering why she was the interim warden. She had been alternately staring at him and then perusing some paperwork for several minutes and Ned was becoming impatient.

“Why am I here?” he finally asked.

“Ned, I read your file,” Lucinda replied. “This is a mistake, you shouldn’t be here.”

The man silently nodded his agreement and waited for her to continue.

Several seconds later, she stated, “I’m getting you out of here. Officer Grady is waiting outside the door. He’ll take you down to Officer Listern, who will then take you back to Gotham City. Do you have a way to get home from Police Headquarters?”

Ned nodded again, astonishment racing through his eyes. She _believed_ him?! Then it was concern that flew across the sea-green circles. Robin would be on his own. The boy couldn’t take another beating without someone by his side. But…he, Ned, was free to go!

“Thank you, ma’am, I really appreciate this. If I could ask for a favor…”

Ned paused, waiting for some sign of affirmation. Lucinda nodded and he was relieved.

“If it’s possible, will you please move Robin to a different cell block?”

“Robyn?” she asked, surprise surrounding the word.

“Yes, you see, it will be much harder if I’m gone because…”

He was about to continue but she interrupted with a quick nod. Waving her hand in dismissal, she said, “Done.”

And, with that, Ned Pucker left the office of Interim Warden Martins, grateful that Robin would be in less danger. There were still a lot of criminals but at least he wouldn’t be by himself against evil villains. Guards were abundant in the cafeteria and outside. The boy might get banged up again, but the commotion would be broken up quickly. Much quicker than it had been in the darkness of the rec room.

Ten minutes later, in Cell Block H in the women’s section of the prison, Robyn Sunders wondered why she was being moved out of her row and into the next one. What was the difference between blocks H and G?

* * *

**The next morning – 6:25:**

The ever-annoying shriek of the bell startled Robin out of a restless sleep. He abruptly sat up and immediately winced when his bruised torso protested the movement. Robin carefully stretched his arms over his head and then rubbed his tired eyes. That was a mistake, he realized, when his equally bruised face began lightly throbbing.

Robin’s stomach growled at him and dizziness suddenly assaulted him. He needed food and water, there was no other choice. Unless he wanted to die of dehydration, which he didn’t. The Boy Wonder slowly climbed down the ladder and was surprised to see the lower bunk empty. Ned hadn’t come back from his visit to the warden. Interim warden, he remembered. Getting to the cafeteria might be a little rougher than Robin had anticipated when he fell asleep last night.

The package that the guard had thrown in last night was still on the floor. It was from Lt. Copple – that’s what the guard had said, anyway – so there was no reason to be suspicious. He slowly bent down and picked it up then sat down on the bottom bunk. Upon opening it, he was surprised to see a teenager-sized pair of pants and short-sleeved t-shirt. There were no socks or shoes but the Boy Wonder hadn’t worn either of those at all yesterday so it didn’t matter to him.

As quickly and quietly as he could, Robin changed clothes. He tossed the bigger ones on top of the large socks and shoes, which were in a pile in the front corner of the cell. Stretching carefully, he was grateful to find that the fit was nearly perfect.

_Thank you, Lt. Copple._

The doors suddenly clanged open and Robin made a quick decision. He raced out of his cell, intending to get to the cafeteria and safety of the guards before anyone had a chance to get in a lucky hit. Then he realized, as he abruptly stopped at a three-way intersection, that he had no idea where the cafeteria was.

A large body barreled into him from behind and Robin stumbled forward. A fist connected with his lower back and the Boy Wonder turned sideways. Whoever had hit him tumbled to the ground. The angle of Robin’s turn, though, caused him to hit the corner of the wall to his left. He bounced off the sharp edge, tripped over the body behind him and fell to the ground hard.

Immediately there was a crowd around him. He was trapped again but he was _Robin_. The man who had fallen was on his hands and knees now, shaking his head to clear his vision. Robin used the position to his advantage, rolling under the man as punches rained down toward his body.

Grabbing the nearest pair of ankles, the Boy Wonder pulled as hard as he could, sweeping the person’s feet out from under him. That body fell to the ground and everyone started moving in that direction, assuming the teenager was already fighting on that side. Smirking slightly, Robin rolled out the way he had come in then leapt to his feet.

“Not good enough, Boy Blunder!” a familiar voice whined in his ear.

He felt the air moving so Robin ducked, turned to his right, and drove his shoulder into the chest of Joker. The man stumbled back and hit a wall. But there were too many people bent on revenge for a young crime-fighter to handle alone.

Robin got hit from behind again, on the head this time, and fell forward. But he was the Boy Wonder, so he tucked his head and rolled right over the body of the fallen Joker. Popping up to his feet again, the teenager turned around just in time for his nose to meet a large fist. Blood spurted out and the crowd of prisoners began surrounding him again.

But Robin got lucky just in time, like he had yesterday in the rec room. Guards finally began pulling people away and shoving them back toward their respective cells. Robin’s hands flew to his nose in an attempt to stop the blood. He had never had a probable broken nose and now knew that he never wanted to have one again.

The fallen bodies of Joker and the two guys Robin had taken out were dragged away, all of them conscious but too groggy to get to their cells by themselves.

“Let’s go, kid,” someone snarled.

Robin was leaning against a wall, his hands still covering his face. He groaned as he realized that the guard now pulling on his arm was the same unsympathetic one from yesterday. The teenager assumed that he wasn’t going to go to the infirmary, even though his entire face was bloody.

And the Boy Wonder was right. The guard shoved Robin into his cell but then stepped in with him.

“Lemme see it,” the man grumbled.

Robin took his hands off his face and the guard stared at him in disgust. The boy had been able to stop the blood so the nose probably wasn’t a big deal. Pulling a latex glove out of his back pocket, the man shoved his hand into it and touched Robin’s nose.

The teenager had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from screaming in pain. He was pretty sure now that it was broken but the man in front of him didn’t look too concerned about it.

“I’ll get ya’ a wet tow so you can clean off your face. Man up, kid, yur fine.”

The guard backed out the door, slammed it shut and locked it. He walked away, pulling off the glove and mumbling about idiots who let themselves get hit hard enough to bleed.

“NO BREAKFAST!” the remaining guard yelled down the hall. “If you guys can’t handle being out of your cells, then you can stay in them until lunch! Maybe by then you’ll be calm enough to _walk_ to the dang cafeteria.”

That guard, too, walked away mumbling about two riots in two days and wondering if the boy in the last cell had started both of them. Maybe he should talk to the warden.

“Of course,” Robin mumbled through the pain. “No breakfast.”

He carefully walked to the bunk bed and sat on the lower one. His entire body was now trembling from pain, fear and hunger. The Boy Wonder was dizzy and his heart was beating quickly, as if he was still in a fight. Those two things, he knew, were signs of dehydration. Wishing Ned was back, the teenager slowly laid down, hoping to ease the pain that was spreading from his nose to his entire head.

A shadow passed his cell door and Robin heard a ‘plop’. He carefully turned his head and saw a sopping wet cloth sitting in the middle of the floor. Did he really care enough to get out of bed and clean himself up? Internally shaking his head, the teenager ignored the towel and closed his eyes. Batman wasn’t going to see him anyway so there was really no point in cleaning up.

* * *

Batman, however, was already back at the State Pen. He was in the processing room, glaring at Lt. Steven Muschamp as the man searched through the processing book. Lt. Jameson, who worked the day shift, had taken some time off for a family vacation.

“There’s no Robin listed here, Batman,” Lt. Muschamp declared.

Spinning the book around so it faced the hero, the man showed the Caped Crusader the log from two nights ago. Batman stared at the page in disbelief: it was blank. But Robin had been in the transfer truck two nights ago. How was there no record of him arriving?

“I need your phone,” the hero demanded and Lt. Muschamp readily complied.

Commissioner Gordon answered on the first ring.

“Commissioner, get me Officer O’Toole,” Batman commanded.

“I don’t know if he’s in yet, Batman, but I’ll check,” the commissioner replied.

There were several minutes of silence and then Commissioner Gordon was speaking again.

“Today is his day off. He’ll be in tomorrow morning at seven.”

Batman, for the first time in his life as the Caped Crusader, dropped his guard.

“Commissioner,” he whispered, “there’s no record of Robin in the processing log. I need to know if he even made it here.”

The commissioner almost dropped the phone at both the news and the tone of the hero’s voice. Batman sounded nothing like the strong, confident Caped Crusader that he was used to hearing. He sounded almost…defeated?

Without hesitation, Commissioner Gordon stated, “Give me a few minutes, Batman. I’ll get ahold of O’Toole and figure this out. You’re in the processing room at the State Pen, I assume?”

There was a quiet “yes” and the commissioner continued, “I’ll call you back.”

Both men slowly hung up their respective phones. And both men stood stock still, concern filling their bodies and dread in their eyes.

Commissioner Gordon hadn’t seen Officer O’Toole yesterday. Could something have happened on the way to the State Pen? Maybe the officer and the Boy Wonder hadn’t even made it there! 

“Bonnie, please bring me the personnel file for Officer O’Toole, as quickly as possible,” the commissioner said as he pushed the button on his intercom.

“Right away, sir,” Bonnie Linseed replied professionally.

She was entering his office twenty seconds later, file in hand. Commissioner Gordon was grateful that she was so organized and efficient. The sooner he talked to O’Toole the better.

Quickly flipping through the folder, the man found the phone number he was looking for and picked up the phone. He dialed the number and waited impatiently.

“Hello, this is Mary.”

Mary, the commissioner knew, was Officer O’Toole’s wife.

Wasting no time with small talk, the man said, “This is Jim Gordon. Is your husband home?”

“Oh, Commissioner, hi,” the woman replied, surprise in her voice. “He’s out back, if you hold just a minute I’ll go get him. Is something wrong?”

Now there was worry in her voice but the commissioner was in a hurry.

“Just go, please!” he almost yelled.

The line went silent but was picked up only thirty-six seconds later.

“This is O’Toole.”

“Mitch, did you get Robin over to the State Pen two nights ago?”

“Yes, Commissioner, of course. Did something happen to him?”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. Nobody seems to know where he is in the prison and there’s no record in the processing log. You’re sure he was checked in?”

“I put him in the capable hands of Lt. Copple, sir. Although…”

There was a long pause and the commissioner tightened his hand on the phone.

“Although _what_ , Officer?”

“I don’t think Copple wrote his name down, sir. When Robin said his name, the lieutenant was so surprised that I think he dropped his pen. I’m pretty sure he didn’t write anything in the logbook. He looked a little dumbfounded because the _Boy Wonder_ was waiting to be processed at the State Pen. I would be too, sir, if I didn’t know the circumstances.”

Nodding his agreement, although he knew the officer couldn’t see the movement, the commissioner said, almost to himself, “Copple? They’ll have his number there.”

Officer O’Toole wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer but he did anyway.

“Yes, Commissioner, I’m sure they will.”

Startled out of his musings, the commissioner stated, “Thanks, O’Toole. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Hope nothing bad has happened,” the officer replied but the only thing he heard was a dial tone.

Commissioner Gordon hung up the phone then picked it right back up. The number for the processing room at the State Pen was on the sticky note in the middle of his desk. He quickly dialed and, again, waited impatiently.

“Lt. Muschamp, State Pen processing department.”

“Muschamp, is Batman there?”

“Yes, sir, here he is.”

“Well?” the gruff voice of the Caped Crusader rumbled through the phone.

“I talked to O’Toole, who said he and Robin made it there. But he thinks the processing officer didn’t write Robin’s name down in the logbook.”

“I’ll take it from here,” Batman immediately replied. Then, much softer, he said, “Thanks, Jim.”

Before the commissioner could reply, the hero hung up and glared at Lt. Muschamp.

“Who does the processing at night? Specifically, two nights ago around midnight?”

“Lt. Copple has the night shift, Batman. I assume you want to talk to him?”

The man asked the question as he began typing into his computer. He heard the affirmative growl just as he pulled up the information for Lt. Copple. Picking up the phone, Lt. Muschamp quickly dialed the number then passed the phone to Batman.

Copple picked up on the first ring. His mind, although sleepy, was still alert. He had just walked into his house when the phone began ringing. It was his bedtime, and he was a little irritated that someone would call him at seven in the morning.

“What?” he growled unceremoniously.

“Why didn’t you write down his name?” Batman demanded.

Lt. Copple was now wide awake. He immediately recognized the voice but was unsure of the answer to the question.

“Who are you talking about, Batman?”

“ _Robin, you idi…Robin!_ ”

The lieutenant’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t logged Robin into the system.

“I…he was…it was so…”

Lt. Copple’s stuttered phrases were immediately interrupted.

“Was Robin there two nights ago?” Batman demanded again.

“Um, yes, sir, I checked him in. He changed and I took him to the overnight cell. Lt. Jameson was supposed to pick him up in the morning and take him to a regular cell.”

“Jameson?” Batman growled, glancing at the name tag on the chest of the man in front of him.

“Yes, sir, he’s the processing…”

Copple’s sentence was interrupted by the buzzing of the dial tone.

“Who is Lt. Jameson?” Batman snapped.

“Oh, he’s the usual man,” Muschamp replied. “But he’s on vacation for the next three or four days.”

“ _NOBODY in this forsaken hole has any idea where Robin is_?!” Batman roared.

Lt. Muschamp flinched but didn’t back down.

“I’m sure there must be…I mean, there are other prisoners in here. Somebody…”

“How many blocks are in here?”

“Fourteen, Batman. Four blocks, G-J, comprise the women’s section. The rest are men.”

“Explain the system for deciding who goes where,” the Caped Crusader commanded.

“Maximum security, blocks A and B, are reserved for murderers and any prisoners who create some trouble. Blocks C-F are average criminals – like small time muggers, first-timers, ordinary law breakers. They don’t need max because they aren’t flight risks. Women are in G-J, as I said before. Blocks K-M are for villains – Joker, Riddler, Penguin, Mr. Freeze, etc. – and many of their henchmen. And, last but not least, N is isolation.”

“What if the prisoner is a _teenager_ who is accused of murder but is innocent?” Batman snarled.

Lt. Muschamp laughed as he said, “Aren’t they all innocent?”

A full-force Bat-glare hit the man square in the eyes and he immediately stopped laughing.

“Well, we’re at capacity so I’m guessing wherever there’s space. We need Lt. Jameson if we don’t want to go traipsing through all the blocks, looking for a small needle in a giant haystack.”

“You’re telling me he could be _anywhere?!_ ”

“Well, yes. Except, of course, blocks G-J.”

Muschamp almost laughed again but restrained himself. Glancing at his watch, the man stated, “The men in K-M, the villains, have outside time right now for another five or six minutes. We can look out there, if you want.”

“Go,” Batman commanded.

Lt. Muschamp practically raced around his desk and led the way toward the hall that would lead to the yard just outside the cafeteria. Batman, cape sweeping behind him, almost kept running the man over. It felt, to the Caped Crusader, like the officer was traveling at the pace of a turtle.

The piercing ring of the bell sounded just as the two men exited the cafeteria. Guards had begun rounding up the prisoners and were herding them toward the entrance like cows to their pens.

_"STOP!_ ” Batman commanded and everyone froze.

"Let me through,” the hero demanded as he strode toward the group. “Let me look at everyone. Move!”

The guards began spreading the prisoners out and Batman searched every face and behind every back. No Robin.

“Go,” he growled, dismissing everyone.

At least he knew Robin wasn’t with the villains.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for commenting, Duckman! :)

**Cell Block M:**

“We can’t even take showers?” a man at the other end of Robin’s row whined.

People had been yelling ever since the guard had announced that there would be no breakfast. Robin wanted to tell them all to just shut up. But he didn’t want to give the criminals another reason to hate him.

Then, a guard did it for him.

“Everybody shut up!” the guard by Robin’s cell yelled. “You keep this up and I won’t take you to lunch, either.”

_Please shut up._

Robin really hoped the other prisoners would listen to the guard; he needed sustenance. The dizziness that had begun after his most recent fight hadn’t receded. He could feel his lips cracking and it hurt to swallow. Lunch was probably three hours away, at least.

_Please just shut up._

From the cell four doors away from him, Robin could hear a creepy voice singing a song in a tune he was sure nobody had ever heard.

“Robin, my baby bird, Joker is coming. Joker is coming for yooooouuu. I can’t leave you aliiiiiive ‘cuz you stole him awaaaaay. Joker is coming for yooooouuuu.”

Whispers were filling the hallway now and Robin caught his name several times. The guy in the cell next to him suddenly knocked on the wall. When Robin didn’t answer, the criminal said seven words just loud enough for the teenager to hear. Seven words that made Robin’s blood run cold and terror streak through his entire body.

“Payback, kid, is going to be fun.”

* * *

Batman had decided to pursue the needle-in-a-haystack strategy. He was currently in Cell Block B, slowly searching every dark corner in each cell. Block A had taken almost an hour but this one was going a little quicker. There was more sunshine in Block B, so there were very few dark corners in which a small teenager could hide.

* * *

**Block M – 11:55:**

“Get up, kid, and come to your door.”

The guard was different from the one who had been roaming up and down the cell block all morning. His voice was gruff, but he wasn’t angry.

Robin, not wanting to find out what would happen if he didn’t comply, did as he was told. His entire body was still trembling, and he suddenly wished he had at least wiped his face. The dried blood had crusted over his nostrils, making it difficult to breathe.

The dizziness increased as he stood up. He walked into a wall before swerving back to the bars of his cell door. There was a loud sigh and Robin almost fell to the ground when his door was unlocked.

Suddenly, his arms were behind his back and his wrists encircled with the sharp, cold metal of handcuffs.

“I don’t know what you did, but my orders are to get you to the cafeteria before everyone else,” the guard stated quietly. “I’m also supposed to keep you confined and stand over you while you eat. You look like you’ve had better days.”

Ignoring the attempt at humor, Robin focused on putting one foot in front of the other. If he could just make it to the cafeteria, he would finally be able to eat.

One minute later the bell rang and the teenager began to panic. They were going to catch up, everyone, and they were going to take down the guard. And he, Robin, was going to have to fight with his hands literally tied behind his back.

“Relax, kid, we’re here. You have about thirty seconds until the other inmates get here. Just enough time for me to hook you to the isolation table and get you a tray.”

Without knowing how it had happened, Robin found himself sitting down. His arms were in front of him and the handcuffs on his wrists were chained to a ring in the middle of the table. The guard was gone but before Robin could turn around to find him, the man was back. He placed a tray of prison cafeteria mush and a tall cup of water in front of the boy.

The stuff in the bowl was gray and squishy but Robin didn’t care. He grabbed the spoon off the tray, scooped up a large bite and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. That was a mistake, he realized as he began choking on a rather large cube that resembled a meatball.

A hand began pounding his back and the meatball slid down his throat. Robin glanced up at the guard with a grateful look, then scooped up some more mush. His hand was shaking, he noticed, so the teenager put down the spoon and picked up the plastic cup instead. He drained almost the entire amount of liquid before putting it back on the table.

“Geez, kid, I know your block didn’t get breakfast but missing one meal isn’t going to kill you. Slow down!” 

“Not since got here,” Robin mumbled before shoving more food in his mouth. He didn’t care that it smelled like wet dog and tasted like mud. It was food.

“What?!” the guard exclaimed quietly. “When did you get here?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders but the guard wanted to know. He put his hand on Robin’s arm, forcing the teen to stop eating.

“When did you get here?” he repeated, concern in his tone.

“I don’t know, can’t keep track of time.”

“Yesterday?”

“No, before that. Night before, I think?”

“You haven’t eaten in a day and a half?! No wonder you’re shaking and swaying all over the place.”

“Can I please…”

Robin glanced down at his arm and the man immediately removed his hand.

"Thanks,” the Boy Wonder muttered as he scooped up another bite.

The guard leaned down and whispered, “Be right back, kid. Keep eating.”

And Robin did. The last bite slid down his throat ten seconds after the guard left and then he drained the rest of the water.

“Boy Blunder got in trouble!” Joker’s familiar voice rang through the general noisiness of the cafeteria.

Something squishy hit the back of his head and Robin growled. The only thing he would be able to do was glare, though, so he ignored the slimy stuff sliding down his neck and remained perfectly still. If only his hands were free; if only it was just him and Joker, alone in a locked room. If only….

“I got you some more but you’ve only got about three minutes.”

The guard had returned. He had another bowl, half-full this time, and another full cup of water.

Robin was done with it all before the three minutes were up.

“Yard time!” another guard yelled and, five seconds later, the bell screeched in approval.

“Crap,” Robin whispered.

“Don’t worry, kid, I’ll take you out last.”

The guard stood in front of Robin, shoving away anyone who came near. The teenager was extremely grateful that he had a guard as an ally now. But then the man spoke again.

“Let’s go,” he said as he unchained Robin’s handcuffs. “I don’t have outside supervision duties so just stay by the other guards. Sorry I can’t undo these,” he stated, pointing to the handcuffs.

Grabbing a napkin off the table, the guard swiped some junk out of Robin’s hair and then led him outside.

Robin looked up at the man, his light-blue eyes full of dread.

“Please?” he whispered, fear skipping around the word. “Please take them off?”

Glancing around, the guard replied, “I was told to keep you restrained. But you’ve got some trouble coming your way and I’m not going to let you get slaughtered because you can’t defend yourself. Just try to stay by the other guards.”

The man unlocked the cuffs and hurried away. Robin was about two yards away from the nearest guard. Joker was coming toward him, so the teenager moved even closer.

“Ya’ think I got yur back, kid?” the man next to him asked with a laugh. 

Robin recognized the voice of the unsympathetic guard who, apparently, didn’t care if an inmate was in obvious danger.

“Good luck,” the guard said as he sauntered away.

There was no time to move closer to a different guard; Joker was already there.

“So, Boy Blunder, are you having a good time here? The State Pen is so cheery, right? What did _you_ do?”

Robin ignored both the questions and the man, choosing instead to stare at the wall behind the villain.

“I know,” Joker taunted. “Batman didn’t want to punish you for bad behavior so he sent you in here. We can do all the punishing he needs.”

The man’s red lips were curved up in a sneer, his yellow teeth glowing in the bright sun and his green hair waving around in the slight breeze. Robin was tired of Joker’s face, his words, the sound of his voice, everything about the man.

So…the teen punched the villain in the face as hard as he could. This time the blood spurted from the nose of Joker, who screamed in agony.

“I don’t need to be punished, _Joker_ ,” Robin snarled.

“Too late,” the man mumbled through his hands, laughter surrounding the words.

The Boy Wonder had his fists ready but no criminals were advancing on him. He was confused and suspicious.

“Hands behind your back.”

A guard had come up behind Robin without the teenager hearing him. Startled by the loud voice, the young crime-fighter automatically spun around and swung. His eyes widened when he saw the face of a guard and he stopped his fist just before it hit the man on the side of his head.

But that didn’t stop the guard from ‘calming’ an unruly prisoner. His nightstick was shoved into Robin’s stomach. The teen was bent in half by the force of the hit and the guard’s weapon slammed down on the back of the boy’s head. Robin dropped to the ground, face first, and didn’t move.

“I’m bleeding out!” Joker whined. “He tried to kill me!”

“Shut up, Joker, you’re fine,” another guard yelled.

“Man up,” Robin whispered from the ground, smirking through the pain in his ribs and the throbbing of his head.

“You shut up, too,” the same guard growled.

A man was kneeling beside Robin, grabbing his arms and forcing them behind the boy’s back. Handcuffs were slapped around the small wrists and the Boy Wonder realized, too late, that this had been a trap.

“It’s off to solitary for you,” the man holding him snarled. “You’ve been in on every fight these last two days and I think you started them. You were standing by the light switch yesterday, you were first out of your cell this morning and now you punched that idiot in the nose. Maybe two days in solitary would be best.”

Robin was yanked to his feet as the guard was giving his speech.

“I didn’t start anything!” he attempted to yell through the blood sliding from his nose. “They’re the ones after me because _I put them here_!”

“Come on,” the guard snarled again as he began jerking Robin toward the door.

“That’s right, guys,” the Boy Wonder continued yelling, “you’re in here because of _me_! I won’t forget this!”

“Shut up!” the guard commanded but Robin refused to go quietly.

“Wait until it’s one on one, Joker! Or Riddler, or Penguin or any of you! I’ll take you down, just like I always do!” 

The teenager was now struggling against the strong grasp of the guard. He was tired of everything that was happening and ready to take down a criminal.

But in here, _he_ was the criminal and the guard did what he would do to any prisoner not obeying his commands. His nightstick hit the back of Robin’s head and the boy’s world went black.

* * *

Batman had finally made it to Cell Block M. It was mid-afternoon on Robin’s second day in prison and the Caped Crusader _still_ hadn’t seen the Boy Wonder. The sun was beginning to lean west and the older hero was going even slower than he had in Block A this morning. There were many dark corners, all of them big enough to hide a small-for-his-age teenager.

Unbeknownst to Batman, Robin was a floor above him, being roughly tossed into cell number 4 in solitary confinement. The solid metal door slammed shut and the only light in the room came from the setting sun, whose last beams were gently weaving through the tiny, barred window near the ten-foot ceiling. But Robin was unconscious, so only having a small rectangle of light didn’t matter to him.

* * *

**One hour later:**

There were six steel doors in solitary confinement and Batman was almost positive that none of them contained Robin. A light bulb would be on if someone was in one of these cells. Warden Crichton refused to let any prisoner languish in complete darkness.

“Robin!” Batman shouted, just in case. But there was no answer, so Batman left.

* * *

Robin heard his name but couldn’t find the strength to answer whoever had yelled it. Then the identity of the voice burst into his muddled mind and he pushed himself up to sitting.

“Batman?” he yelled, although it came out as more of a weak shout.

But there was no answer. Robin sighed as he sat in the darkness. Complete darkness, he realized, as he glanced around himself. He remembered that he was in isolation but he knew the warden’s rule about light. Why was there no light on, anywhere?

“I really screwed up,” the teenager whispered.

Punching Joker first meant he had started the fight. Then he had nearly hit a guard. And then he had disobeyed the man’s orders, yelling at the other prisoners and struggling to get away.

“Status report,” he mumbled to the darkness surrounding him. “Giant headache, face on fire…”

The teenager stopped talking and gently probed around his face. Nose – definitely broken. He remembered falling on it in the yard, just before being handcuffed. Left eye – swollen almost shut. Right side of face – swollen everywhere except the eye. Dried blood crusted on his entire face.

With another sigh, Robin continued, “Chest hurts but nothing broken…I think.”

This time he probed his torso, all over. It really hurt but there were no sharp edges. Something could be fractured – he had never been good at evaluating ribs – but hopefully he just had deep bone bruises.

“Nothing wrong with my legs, that’s good,” he commented, trying to find something positive. He was, after all, _Robin_.

His stomach growled and a picture of the gray mush raced through his mind. Would he get dinner in isolation? That was something he had never thought about before. Not surprising, since he had never had to think about anything like that…like _this_ …before.

A light suddenly came on in the hallway of Cell Block N. The weak beam flowed into the teenager’s cell through a long, narrow, barred slit near the very top of the solid, steel door. Robin stared blankly at the only exit, wondering how long he had been here. At least he now had a little bit of light.

He glanced around again and suddenly felt very, very alone. The cell was small, maybe sixty square feet, and the only thing in there was a toilet attached to the wall. No bed, not even a blanket. Then he realized, he wouldn’t need a blanket. The temperature was warm and he was already beginning to sweat.

There was a creaking noise and Robin, who was sitting right next to the door, instinctively jumped to his feet. On the door, just above the floor, a rectangular slit flipped up. A large Ziploc bag was shoved through the small opening. The teenager dropped to the floor again and grabbed the bag. Some apple slices, a piece of bread and a smaller, sandwich-size bag with liquid sloshing around inside.

So, there was his answer. A prisoner in isolation did get dinner. It was a more like a snack but at least there was water.

“Five minutes,” a deep voice growled.

Robin’s jaw dropped in shock. He only had five minutes to eat?! That’s what he assumed the person meant so the teenager began chewing and swallowing faster than he ever had in his entire life. Robin was grabbing the bag of water when the slit flipped up again. Quickly draining the liquid, he shoved the small bag into the bigger bag and pushed it through the opening.

“Sleep well,” a high-pitched voice sneered.

The light went out and the Boy Wonder was alone again.

* * *

Robin wasn’t here. That was the only logical answer. Batman had seen every cell, talked to almost every prisoner and had even checked solitary confinement. Most of the villains in blocks K-M were too busy insulting him to listen to his questions. They probably wouldn’t tell him anything anyway.

Lt. Jameson. Batman had neglected to try to reach the man. He and Muschamp had gone out to the prison yard and then Batman had begun searching for his strong needle in this hostile haystack.

Climbing out of the Batmobile that he had just climbed into, Batman strode back into the State Pen and straight back to the processing department.

It was nearing seven o’clock now and Lt. Muschamp was briefing Lt. Copple. Both men looked up from some paperwork when they heard the distinctive sound of the Caped Crusader’s boots stomping down the hall.

“We need to call Lt. Jameson,” Lt. Copple stated when the hero stalked into view. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that yet.”

“I took the liberty of doing so,” Lt. Muschamp stated. “His teenage son said his parents went out of town for their anniversary. He gave me the number for their hotel so I left a message telling Jameson to call me back as soon as possible.”

With perfect timing, the phone on the counter began to ring. Batman snatched it up first.

“Lt. Jameson?” he growled.

“Batman?” the man on the other end replied in surprise.

“Did you take Robin to a cell?”

There was no answer, only static. Batman repeated the question, this time yelling through the receiver.

“Sorry…what…breaking…”

“ _DID YOU TAKE ROBIN TO A CELL_?!” Batman roared into the phone.

“…bin? Yes, block…next to…space…room.”

“You’re breaking up, Jameson!” Batman shouted at the man. “Just give me a letter! What. Block?!”

“…up? You…cell…find…”

The dial tone abruptly began buzzing in his ear and Batman slammed the phone down.

“Robin’s here,” the hero growled, “but Jameson couldn’t hear me and the call got disconnected.”

“At least we know he’s here,” Lt. Copple commented.

“But where?” Lt. Muschamp vocalized the question that was in each man’s mind.

The phone rang again. Batman didn’t pick it up so Copple did.

“Jameson…”

There was a somewhat lengthy pause and then the lieutenant yelled, “What?! Why on earth…?”

Dropping the phone back on the receiver, Lt. Copple turned around and hit the wall with his fist.

“Block M,” he snarled. “Jameson put him with the villains!”

“Let’s go!” Muschamp shouted and all three men sprinted toward the hall that would lead them to Cell Block M.

They arrived in less than five minutes. Every cell they passed was full. The last one they saw was empty, except for a dirty washcloth lying on the floor in the middle of the small room.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Batsy?” Joker cackled. “Diddya lose a little birdie?”

Whipping around to face the man that was four cells away, Batman thundered, “ _WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, JOKER?!_ ”

“Nothing,” the villain replied cheerily. “It was _he_ that did it to _me_.”

“Where is he?” Batman whispered darkly as he strode to Joker’s cell.

The Clown Prince of Crime shrugged, turned around and laid down on the bottom bunk in his cell.

“Your sidekick punched him, Batman!” Riddler giggled from the top bunk.

Turning back to the two lieutenants, Batman asked, “Where do prisoners who start fights, with or without _provocation_ …”

At that word, Batman threw a Bat-glare into the cell of Joker and Riddler.

“…go?” the Caped Crusader finished.

“Cell Blocks A and B – murderers and inmates who start trouble,” Muschamp reminded him.

“Lead the way, quickly.”

The three men took off down the hall, heading toward blocks A and B.

“But he’s iiii-nnn sollllllll-i-tary!” Joker quietly sang as they disappeared.

Both villains chuckled at the picture of an unconscious sidekick lying on the floor in solitary confinement.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! There isn't a lot of action in this chapter, but it will get better in the following chapters.

**Cell Block N:**

“He promised,” Robin said softly through tears. “Every day. He promised every day.”

Batman hadn’t come at all. The teenager had been in here for two days, according to the guard in the cafeteria, and the Caped Crusader hadn’t come to check on him.

“He’ll come tomorrow. No, he won’t. You killed a man! Who wants to visit a murderer? But he promised. He’ll come…sometime…maybe….”

* * *

Using the dim overhead lights and Batman’s strong, bright, Bat-flashlight, the three men carefully searched every cell in blocks A and B. There was no small teenager anywhere. No answer to the calling of his name and no little ball curled in any shadows.

“The infirmary?” Lt. Muschamp offered.

“Nothing to lose,” Lt. Copple agreed.

“Let’s go,” Batman said again, wearily. Hopefully his young partner wasn’t too injured.

But when they got there, the only person in the infirmary was the nurse. She hadn’t seen any prisoners for several days.

“Even though there were two riots in two days and a scuffle at lunch today!” she exclaimed. “You would think those villains would learn…”

“Solitary confinement,” both lieutenants interrupted quietly.

Turning around, they sprinted away again, Batman hot on their heels. But, just like it was when Batman had been here before, there was no light on and no guard.

“Dang it!” Lt. Copple yelled.

“Lt. Copple?”

The quiet question was full of surprise and came from cell number 4.

“Robin?” Batman called, even though he recognized his partner’s voice, and the distress and despair and pain.

“Bat…man?”

This time he heard relief in the tone as Lt. Muschamp flipped the switch that turned on the single lightbulb in the darkest part of the State Pen.

“Open it up!” Batman commanded.

Lt. Copple was already at the computer, typing in commands and frowning.

“It’s not responding,” he stated, frustration woven through the words.

“ _What do you mean ‘not responding’?_ ” Batman shouted.

“Somebody did this manually. We can’t open the doors until whoever it was puts in the password he or she created.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Batman exploded.

“It’s okay, Batman,” Robin stated. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. You’re here, you checked on me, everything’s fine. I’ll see you in two days when that guy lets me out.”

“ _TWO DAYS?!_ ” Batman exploded again.

“I, um, punched Joker in the face.”

There was a slight smirk in the tone but Batman ignored it.

“I heard there were two riots, Robin. What happened? Full report, remember?”

“Uh, yeah, there was some scuffling but everything turned out okay. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine, kiddo.”

“Well, um, it’s just a little dark in here. And kind of hot. But it’s fine, I’m fine. Two days is nothing in the grand scheme of things, right?”

Robin attempted to chuckle at the end of the sentence but it fell flat.

Alfred’s words echoed in Batman’s head:

“Sir, he’s Robin. That’s his nature. If he sees how distressed you are, you know he will immediately search for a way to make everything better for you.”

And here they were, Robin behind a solid steel door with the tiniest of windows and trying to make light of everything. And the boy was right about the temperature. It was warm in the hallway and it had to be worse in the small cell.

“Status report, Robin,” Batman commanded.

“A little headache,” the teenager replied. “That bell is so loud.”

“What else?” the Caped Crusader demanded. “Full report, Robin, you told me you would give me a full report.”

“And you promised to check on me every day,” the Boy Wonder retorted quietly.

Batman almost missed the nearly inaudible accusation. He didn’t want to talk about that, though, so he pretended that he hadn’t heard and continued his interrogation.

“Injuries, Robin, full status report.”

There was complete silence and all three men glanced at each other in concern.

“We’ll go find out who did this,” Lt. Copple pointed at the computer, “so we can get him out of here.”

He and Lt. Muschamp left, hoping that Robin would be more willing to talk about any injuries he might have sustained if Batman was the only one in the room.

“Robin,” Batman warned.

“I already told you I have a headache,” Robin stated.

“And…”

“My wrists are a little sore from the handcuffs. After I punched Joker, the guy slapped them on me pretty hard.”

“And…” Batman persisted, knowing that Robin was probably the cause of the two riots.

“Somebody got a lucky punch in when we were walking to breakfast. My chest hurts just a little bit, nothing major. No broken ribs or anything.”

That wasn’t really a lie, Robin justified to himself. Somebody _had_ been lucky in the darkness of the first riot, even if they hadn’t been walking to breakfast during that particular hit. 

Batman sighed; this was like pulling out a very stubborn tooth.

“AND?!”

“Um, this guy Ned was my cellmate for a day. His muscles had muscles, Batman! At first I thought I was a goner but it turns out that I saved his son a while back. Do you remember the little boy on the subway tracks?”

“Yes,” Batman said slowly. Where had he heard the name ‘Ned’?

“But I haven’t seen him since last night when the interim warden called him to Warden Crichton’s office. Why is there an interim warden, anyway?”

Batman had been pacing the hall during the conversation. He stopped in front of Robin’s cell door and sat down.

“Warden Crichton has pneumonia,” the man stated.

Ned was the name that Lucinda was saying when he had been waiting for her. She had said something about ‘murder’ and ‘a mistake’.

“He told me it was a mistake that he was here. Ned, I mean. GCPD found him by a body and a weapon. They think he murdered a guy.”

“Interesting,” Batman murmured, almost to himself. “Okay, Robin, what else?” he said louder. “I want to know every detail from the time you were processed until right now. Don’t skip anything, do you understand?”

_Yeah, right. That’s all you need, more stress in your life._

Robin wasn’t going to let that happen. Batman was stressed enough, he could hear it in the man’s voice. He didn’t need to know everything that Robin had been through in here.

“Robin.”

The word was used as a warning again but the Boy Wonder ignored the tone. He was going to leave out a…few…details.

“When I got here it was late so Lt. Copple put me in an overnight cell. There was nobody else in there so I got a good night of sleep.”

_Which is good because you probably knew it would be the last time you would have that for a while._

That was Batman’s immediate thought when he had heard the words ‘nobody else’ and ‘good night’.

“Okay, go on.”

“Lt. Jameson, where is he by the way?”

“Vacation,” Batman grunted, ending that part of the conversation.

“Oh, well, he took me to a regular cell in the morning.”

“In the block with the villains,” Batman growled.

_That’s not my fault, you don’t have to growl at me!_

Robin scowled at the man’s tone but continued.

“Yeah, but I was by myself so it was no big deal.”

_They only threatened to kill me when they found out I was there but it was no big deal._

“You just told me you had a cellmate.”

“Oh, yeah, that was after breakfast. I was by myself in the early morning. I had a good workout though – pushups and sit ups and I was about to do pullups when everyone…”

_Crap, I went too far._

“By yourself in the _early_ morning and about to do pullups when everyone _what_ , Robin?”

“Anyway, after breakfast…”

“Robin, I told you not to leave out any details!” the Caped Crusader snapped.

There was a long pause and Batman thought of something.

“You didn’t go to breakfast, did you?”

Robin didn’t answer and Batman knew he was right.

“That wasn’t smart, Robin, you’re a growing boy!”

“Anyway,” Robin ignored the comment, “after breakfast my cellmate came in and we had nothing to do for soooooo long! It was so boring, Batman! Warden Crichton should find something for the prisoners to do!”

“Thank you for the commentary,” Batman stated with a drop of humor in his voice. “Continue.”

“Then it was time for lunch. After lunch Ned told me his whole story.”

_Crap, I should have said he told me that in the morning._

Batman, of course, had picked up on the small discrepancy.

“Why didn’t he tell you that in the morning, while you were soooo bored?”

Complete silence again and Batman felt like yelling at his partner. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm for Robin’s sake.

“Robin, answer the question,” the man commanded.

“We didn’t feel like talking?” Robin mumbled.

The teenager’s voice was timid and the answer was more like a question. Robin was lying to him, and Batman was furious about it.

“ _Do not lie to me, young man_!” the older hero nearly roared.

Silence again and the absence of any sound was very frustrating for Batman. How was he supposed to get answers out of the boy when Robin was refusing to tell his older partner the small details? Not to mention the fact that the Boy Wonder was outright lying to him!

“Robin!” Batman shouted. “Do. Not. Lie. To. Me. You’re stressed enough, I can hear it in your voice. Don’t make it worse by trying to feed me lies!”

_I’m stressed? You’re the one yelling and roaring at me! You don’t need small details but I’ll throw you a bone._

“Fine, I may have been a tiny bit worried and I may have stayed out of sight.”

“ _FOR FOUR HOURS?_ ” Batman exploded again.

_No, for one minute while I sized the guy up._

Robin rolled his eyes and shut his mouth.

“How does one stay out of sight for four hours in a tiny prison cell?”

_Just leave it alone, Batman. I was freaking terrified, so I hid under the bed._

“I was just a little worried, like I said. There are two bunks in a bunk bed.”

_That’s all you’re getting, under the bed sounds much weaker than on the top bunk._

“So anyway, after lunch he, Ned, told me what had happened.”

“If Ned was already in the cell with you, how did he not see you come out for lunch, kiddo?” Batman asked in a much calmer voice. It was almost deadly, the one he used when he was furious with some kind of criminal.

Batman was extremely intelligent, Robin knew that. He also knew that he was accidentally giving away the small details that the Caped Crusader was so desperately searching for. At least, he sounded somewhat desperate. Well, right now he sounded like he was full of rage but Robin hoped he was wrong. That’s exactly what he needed right now – a strong man full of rage directed at him. Didn’t he already have that in this horrible prison? More like twenty or thirty of those types of men?

“You didn’t go to lunch, either.”

It was a comment, Batman was absolutely positive that it was the correct answer. Standing up, the older crime-fighter began pacing again. So, no breakfast and now no lunch. Did the inmates get water while in their cells?

He pictured a dehydrated Robin, lying on the ground dying for lack of food and water. That was a disturbing image so he tossed it out of his mind. Robin was very much alive.

“Continue,” the man commanded again.

“Then we sat in the cell bored again for a long time, went to dinner, came back and went to bed. That’s when the warden – interim warden or whatever – called Ned up to her office. The end.”

“Robin,” Batman sighed as he sat down again, “that was one day. You’ve been in here two days. Keep. Going.”

“I’m tired, Batman. Isn’t it kind of late? It’s been a long, very boring two days. Can I just go to sleep now?”

Batman growled internally. Robin was stalling. It _was_ late, though, and the boy was probably exhausted.

“Sure, kiddo, go to sleep. But we are going to continue talking about this in the morning. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re going to sleep out there on the floor?” Robin exclaimed.

“You really think I’m going to leave you here alone when it took me so long to find you?” Batman retorted.

“Took you so long?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, chum. Go to sleep.”

Silence reigned so Batman assumed that his Boy Wonder was obeying at least this one order.

“You promised, Batman.”

Robin’s quiet voice floated through the door. It was full of distress and betrayal.

Batman had known that Robin would feel that way. But the tone hit him full force and he felt the unfamiliar tears slide into his eyes.

“Why didn’t you come?” the boy almost whimpered. “You _promised_.”

Two tears did fall and Batman choked when he tried to answer. He silently counted to five, using the seconds to compose himself before answering.

“You don’t know the story yet, Robin, so please don’t think about it for now. We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay? Go to sleep,” he said gently.

“But you…you _promised!_ ”

This time there were tears in the boy’s voice and Batman almost broke down. Robin was crying and the Caped Crusader wanted to gather the teenager in his strong arms and hold him forever. But that was impossible, for now, and Batman had to answer.

“I’m so sorry, Robin. I tried, so hard. I searched, I stayed all day…”

“I stayed all day, too, Batman,” Robin remarked softly, “and into the night. I’m going to sleep now.”

Robin’s words were broken by sniffles but then everything went quiet.

“Robin,” Batman began but was immediately interrupted.

“Good night.”

The teen’s voice had a strong note of finality. Batman shut his mouth, leaned against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He had _promised_ , and he had failed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comment, Duckman!

**The next morning:**

Robin had slept very little. It was difficult to sleep when he was full-on sweating, his stomach was yelling at him, and he was thinking about how to make Batman feel better. Also, the hard floor wasn’t very comfortable. The Boy Wonder had a mental image of his partner lying on the floor right outside his door. Hopefully the man hadn’t followed through with that.

Shaking his head, Robin sat up and stretched. Everything felt tight and his chest hurt more than it had yesterday. Something must be fractured. The teenager tried moving his nose and couldn’t hold back the grunt of pain. Lifting his right hand, he probed his face. Still swollen and the right side was numb.

“Awesssome,” Robin muttered.

The word sounded slurred and now the teen really hoped his partner had gone to sleep somewhere else.

* * *

Batman was still outside the door and he, too, had slept little. Robin’s statement was continually running through his mind:

“I stayed all day, too, Batman, and into the night.” 

“Awesssome.”

Robin was awake. But the single word was slurred and the boy’s voice was outlined with exhaustion. He had to get his young partner out of there. Batman had no control over the situation and it was extremely frustrating.

“Breakfast ti…Batman?!”

A short, skinny guard with bleach-blonde hair had just opened the door to Cell Block N. He was carrying a large Ziploc bag and his eyes were wide with astonishment.

“What are you doing here?!” the guard exclaimed.

“Waiting for you to open this door,” Batman replied as he stood up and pointed to Robin’s cell door.

“I don’t have the password, sir! I’m just here to deliver breakfast,” the man declared, holding up the bag.

The bell screeched through the large speaker right over Batman’s head. He immediately understood why Robin had stated that he had a “little” headache. Breakfast – 6:30.

The Caped Crusader stared at the bag in the man’s hand. A peeled banana, a slice of bread, and a small bag of liquid?

“You call _that_ breakfast?!” Batman almost shouted.

“Breakfast?” Robin called through the door.

Batman could hear the excitement in his young partner’s voice. The boy was going to be disappointed when he saw what “breakfast” was.

The guard, uncertainty in his eyes, slowly lowered the bag.

“It’s the, um, same thing we serve all the inmates in solitary.”

“And exactly how many inmates are currently in solitary?” Batman demanded.

“Um…” the guard paused and flicked his eyes to Robin’s door.

“Stay here,” Batman commanded. “I’m going to get him some actual breakfast.”

“Well, sir, you can’t bring any outside food…”

The guard shut his mouth when he was grabbed by his shoulders and shoved up against the wall. The breakfast bag fell to the ground and the banana smashed on impact.

“ _Who is going to stop me?_!” Batman roared. “ _YOU?!”_

“Batman, come on, stop,” Robin yelled.

The yell turned into a cough and the older hero immediately let go of the guard’s shirt.

“What’s wrong, Robin?” Batman asked, concern bouncing around the words.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just a little…”

There was a pause and Batman’s concern grew.

“ _What_ , Robin, a little _what_?”

“Thirsty. Is there water in the bag?”

“Sure is, kid,” the guard chimed in, picking up the bag he had dropped. “And a banana and bread.”

“A banana! Come on, Batman, let him pass it in. Bananas have protein.”

Without waiting for the Caped Crusader’s permission, the guard got on his knees and opened the slit near the bottom of the door.

“It’s a little squished, sorry.”

Batman stopped the man’s arm before the bag was pushed through.

“It’s mush,” the hero stated. “There’s no way he can eat that and you know it.”

“At least I’m _trying_ to give him something!” the guard snapped. “All you’re doing is standing here preventing me from doing it!”

“Batman, I’ve got five minutes, just let him give it to me!”

Robin’s voice was full of desperation now. With shock in his eyes, Batman let go of the man’s arm and turned away from the door. He sprinted down the hall and out the door, heading for the Batmobile and the six Bat-bars stocked in the glove box.

Fury filled his body as he ran, fueling him to go faster. The guard was giving _Robin_ a squished banana, a square of bread and a small bag of water for breakfast. The athletic Boy Wonder was a growing boy, not some tiny dog with a tiny appetite!

While Batman was running, Robin was staring sadly at a Ziploc full of smashed banana. He was dizzy, shaky, in pain and needed the protein. But now he wouldn’t get anything until lunch. And _Batman_ was the one who had stopped the guard from giving it to him!

“You done, kid?” the guard asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Robin answered softly as he pushed the bag through the slit.

_At least he got some water._

That was the guard’s only thought as he walked away, flipping the switch to turn off the light bulb as he strode out the door.

Robin had been kneeling by his cell door for the last seven minutes. With a sigh of regret, the teenager slowly stood up and stretched again. Then he went to the back corner of his cell and, using the wall as support, slid to sit down. The Boy Wonder brought his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and laid his forehead on his knees.

Batman hadn’t said anything since Robin had asked him to let the guard pass in the breakfast. Since he was ignoring his sidekick, the teenager decided to ignore him. Closing his eyes, Robin allowed silent tears to begin sliding down his cheeks. At least he only had one more day in here.

* * *

Batman flipped open the glove box, grabbed all six Bat-bars and raced back toward the State Pen. Robin needed protein and Bat-bars were full of that. They were also chock full of everything else an active teenager needed. He just wished he had some bottles of Bat-water. If that small bag was all Robin was receiving at every meal, the kid was without a doubt already dehydrated. Especially since the room he was in was warm, probably warmer than the hall that Batman had been sitting in all night.

Finally, he made it back to solitary confinement. The guard was gone, the light bulb was off and everything was quiet. Batman flipped the switch and the light bulb came back on.

“Robin, I brought you some Bat-bars,” the Caped Crusader announced as he dropped to his knees in front of cell number 4.

There was no answer.

“Robin?”

Still nothing.

“Robin, talk to me!” the older hero commanded.

“Goaway,” the boy mumbled.

“Robin, I have Bat-bars. I can only slide in one at a time but I brought six of them.”

“Yeah, right,” the teenager growled. “You’re not allowed to bring in food from outside and you wouldn’t break the rules in the _State Pen_. My banana got smashed flat because of you. You took up so much time that I only got to drink the water!”

“Robin, I…”

“You want to know everything, right?” the Boy Wonder suddenly yelled.

Flinching at the pain that spiked through his face and the sandpaper that began rubbing against his throat, Robin decided not to shout anymore.

“Yes, Robin. Everything,” Batman replied as he began shoving Bat-bars through the slit.

Robin’s eyes widened as Bat-bar after Bat-bar fell into his small cell. He was at the door before he even realized he was moving, ripping the wrapping off one of the nutrient-filled bars and cramming it into his mouth.

Batman heard the noise and decided to wait to demand a full report. Obviously, the boy was rather hungry. Well, it would take some time to catch up after not having breakfast or lunch two days ago.

As he was chewing, the Boy Wonder decided against telling Batman everything. The man was breaking the rules for him and Robin wasn’t going to tell him anything that would lead to more rule-breaking. Because he knew that if his older partner found out some of the things that had happened, there might be some broken bones in Cell Block M before the day was over.

“Slow down, kiddo,” Batman stated when he heard a slight choking sound. “They’re not going anywhere and you have much longer than five minutes.”

The Caped Crusader internally growled when he said the last two words. Apparently in isolation you only had five minutes to eat. It could be considered a long time, he supposed, for the amount of food the guard had tried to give Robin.

Robin, however, refused to slow down. This was his first _real_ meal in over two days. The mush at lunch yesterday hadn’t done anything for him and the “dinner” last night was just a snack. So, he continued shoving the food down his throat while wishing that he had water to wash it down.

After Bat-bar number three, the teenager had to stop. His stomach demanded more but his throat was too sore to continue swallowing.

“Do you, uh, happen to have any, um…”

The pause was long and Batman sighed. Why was Robin being so timid when _Batman_ was the one he was talking to? And why did his voice sound so scratchy?

“Any what, kiddo?”

“Um, sorry, uh, water?” the boy asked quietly.

“Not right here with me. Give me a few minutes to find a guard and force him to bring you something to drink.”

“Okay, I’ll just wait here,” Robin whispered.

Batman grinned slightly; his young partner had tried to make a joke.

“Be right back,” the man declared, standing up and striding down the hall.

Robin started to answer but coughed instead. Turning around, he leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes again. His heartbeat was speeding up again and he had stopped sweating even though his cell was hot. Dehydration was not fun.

Five minutes later Batman was back, practically dragging a pudgy guard behind him. The guard had three water bottles and two sandwich bags. Batman knew the bottles wouldn’t fit through the skinny slit, so he had grabbed the bags. Those could be filled with water and handed back and forth.

“Robin, I have water.”

The phone next to the computer on the desk began ringing. Batman dropped the guard’s arm and picked it up.

“Who is this?”

“Batman, it’s Lt. Copple. Lt. Muschamp and I have talked to every single guard. There are three scenarios here. First, nobody knows who did it except the one who did it and that one isn’t going to tell us. Second, nobody knows who did it and the person who did it has the day off today. Third, people know but won’t tell us. What do you want me to do?”

“What happens if we can’t find out who created the password?” Batman demanded.

“Well, the computer will revert back to the old password at the end of Robin’s scheduled time in isolation. Then we can get him out. He said two days, right?”

“Yes,” Batman replied gruffly.

“Okay, so it depends on what time he got there. Let’s say it was five o’clock yesterday afternoon. Five o’clock today would be the end of his first day. So at five o’clock tomorrow afternoon, the password reverts back and we open the door.”

“How do we know what time he was put in there?”

“If he doesn’t know then we have to guess. And he probably doesn’t know because inmates who get put in solitary are usually unconscious when they arrive.”

“ _WHAT?!”_ Batman exploded for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last twelve hours.

“Let’s just narrow down the time right now. We were checking block M around…”

“Close to seven,” Batman immediately replied.

“Okay, and he wasn’t there so that means he was most likely in solitary before seven. So sometime close to seven tomorrow night, we can get him out. Unless the guard who put him there decides to tell us.”

“Seven o’clock tomorrow night,” the Caped Crusader growled quietly. “What is he going to do all day? And all day tomorrow? How is he going to go to the bathroom? Is there…”

“Hold on, Batman, let me explain. There is a toilet in there, just like any other cell. But that’s it. Once the door is locked, he’s stuck until his time is up or somebody enters the password. In this situation, we can’t even get him out for a shower or some yard time. We can’t really do anything for him right now.”

“When you said, ‘that’s it’, did you mean there is only one thing in his cell?”

“Yes, Batman. There is nothing in a solitary confinement cell except a toilet attached to the wall. There’s no bed, no desk, no books or games or anything. It’s been a long time since we’ve used these cells. They’ve never been upgraded.”

“ _So you’re telling me_ ,” Batman roared, “ _that he’s in there with NOTHING!_ ”

“Yes, Batman, and it ticks me off that we can’t do anything about it!” Lt. Copple shouted back through the phone.

“If I EVER find the guard that did this…” Batman began.

“Me, too, Caped Crusader,” Copple agreed quietly. “But I’ll let you go first.”

With that, the call was over. Batman ran a hand down his face as he hung up the phone. How was he going to keep Robin from going insane? They couldn’t just sit there and talk for two days!

“I’m out, sir,” the pudgy guard said from behind Batman.

The hero turned around and was surprised to see three empty water bottles and two wet sandwich bags.

“He drank them all?!”

“Told you…I was…thirsty,” Robin gasped. He was leaning against the wall again but his eyes were open now.

“Go get more,” Batman commanded, and the man scurried away.

“Robin, please tell me that you’ve had more than just little sandwich bags of water during these last few days.”

Silence reigned and Batman clenched his hands into fists. Did _anyone_ care about what happened to inmates in this place?!

“How bad is it, chum?” Batman asked gently as he sat down in front of the door again.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” the Boy Wonder replied, still refusing to lay more stress on the shoulders of his partner.

“When was the last time you ate?” Batman asked, not as gently as before.

“Um, two minutes ago!”

“I mean before the Bat-bars.”

“Oh, I didn’t get the banana so last night.”

“What did you have for dinner last night?”

“Food.”

“Obviously,” Batman ground the word out. “Specifically, what _food_ did you have?”

_There’s no way out of this one._

That thought raced through Robin’s mind even as he attempted to find a way to make the answer sound positive.

“Robin.”

Sighing, Robin gave in.

“Some apple slices and a piece of bread.”

“And?”

“And some water.”

“And?”

Silence again and Batman almost removed his cowl and threw it down the hall, just as he had done in the Batcave.

“And that’s it,” Robin finally whispered guiltily.

_It’s not your fault so why do you sound so guilty?_

“What are you not telling me, kiddo? Did you not eat lunch yesterday?”

“No, I mean, yes, I ate lunch! It tasted like mud, though. But I didn’t really care because…”

_Crap._

Robin knew he had just given Batman more information than the man needed to know.

“Because you didn’t eat breakfast.”

Again Batman’s sentence was a comment, not a question.

“So, on the first day you skipped breakfast and lunch and then breakfast again on the second day. Was that one your choice, also?”

“I…”

“Robin, just answer the question! I’m tired of trying to pull things out of you! I need you to just get it all off your chest. Tell me everything!”

_No way, Batman. I might tell you about the food but that’s all you get._

“So, um, when do I get out of here?”

“Don’t change the subject, Robin,” Batman warned.

“No, it wasn’t my choice,” the teen snapped. “The riot was in my cell block so nobody was allowed to go to breakfast. Happy now?” he finished with a growl.

“Let’s talk about the riots,” Batman replied calmly.

“No,” Robin retorted, his voice full of anger and laced with betrayal. “Let’s talk about the fact that you promised you would come see me every day and then you didn’t! Let’s discuss the fact that you immediately broke a promise that you made to me when I was scared for my life! Let’s…”

“Enough!” Batman commanded loudly.

“It’s your turn to talk, Batman,” Robin almost snarled. “Because I’m done.”

The bell unexpectedly screamed again. Batman glanced at his Bat-watch: 7:30. Yard time, for everyone except Robin.

“What’s _that_ one for?” Robin wondered out loud.

Batman was surprised that Robin, who had an excellent memory, didn’t know the schedule yet. Breakfast, yard time, showers then back to cells. Of course, Robin hadn’t had breakfast in here yet.

“Yard time,” Batman replied. “If you had gone to breakfast on your first day, you would know that.”

“Just shut up,” Robin mumbled, hoping that his older partner hadn’t heard it.

“Oh, so you’re ready to talk again,” Batman stated, wisely ignoring the nearly inaudible comment.

“I’ve told you enough.”

“We haven’t talked about the riots.”

“Oh. My. Gosh! Just let it go.”

“Are you injured in any way?” Batman lightly demanded.

“ _I_ punched Joker, remember? Not the other way around.”

“The guards wouldn’t put you in solitary for one punch, Robin. There’s more to your story and you’re still trying to lie your way out of it.”

“ _I’m not lying_!” Robin shouted.

The pain burst through his head again, reminding him that he shouldn’t shout.

“I _did_ punch Joker. The guard got mad and I may have started yelling at the other villains. Maybe that was annoying; I’m sometimes annoying, right? I also sometimes say stupid things and maybe he didn’t like something I said.”

Robin sighed then closed his eyes again.

“I should have just kept my mouth shut. I’m in the State Pen with a bunch of people that hate me and I start yelling at them. Who does that?!”

Batman chuckled quietly because, to him, it was a somewhat silly question. _Robin_ did that all the time: when he was kidnapped, when he was being used as bait by villains or criminals, when he was fighting a bad guy.

“Don’t answer that,” the Boy Wonder whispered.

There was a long pause and then Robin mumbled, “What do prisoners do during yard time?”

“You had yard time after lunch yesterday, right?” Batman responded.

“Yeah, but then Joker came over and I punched him so…”

Batman almost laughed out loud again. But he immediately sobered when he realized that the only yard time Robin had received, apparently, was that few minutes yesterday. His boy had been stuck inside for almost two days straight.

“How much light do you have in there, kiddo?”

“Enough,” the teen replied with a shrug.

Then he thought of something and his eyes popped open.

“Why are you just sitting out there when I know you want me out of here?”

Batman sighed and replied, “We can’t open the door without the password, which was created by the guard who brought you in here. And we don’t know who did that. Yet.”

“So, I’m never getting out?”

“That’s not what I said, chum. You told me the guard said two days in solitary, right?”

There was a grunt so Batman assumed that meant yes.

“As soon as the two days are up, the password will go back to the regular one that all the guards know.”

“Okay, so I just have all day and then Lt. Copple will be able to open the door?”

Batman grimaced. He really didn’t want to answer that question. But the teenager had a right to know.

“Dinner time, then?” Robin inquired, a touch of anticipation in his voice.

“Well,” Batman began and then stopped.

“Well what?” Robin asked.

The slight sound of anticipation had disappeared and Batman grimaced again.

“Well, dinner time tonight is the end of your first day.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Robin shouted in a whisper.

“A day is twenty-four hours, kiddo, which they take literally here.”

“So…dinner time tomorrow?!” the teenager whispered, despair filling his voice.

“I’ll be right here the whole time, Robin,” Batman declared. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Whether you’re there or not doesn’t really matter because I _am_ alone. You can move around freely while I’m stuck in this sixty-ish square foot cell. You can read a book or stare out the windows, if there are any out there, while I have nothing to do.”

The bell screeched again and Robin said, “Back to cells.”

Batman shook his head and whispered, “Showers.”

“Awesome,” Robin commented sarcastically. “Wish I could take a shower. All I have is toilet water so…”

“I don’t think you need to go that far,” Batman replied, trying to force a grin into his voice.

“Come on, Batman, I’m a teenager!” Robin stated, also trying to add some humor to the situation.

“Well,” the Caped Crusader said, “what do you want to talk about?”

There was a heavy sigh and then Robin replied, “I’m just going to work out for a while.”

“Okay,” Batman stated, somewhat surprised. Robin had room to work out in that small of a cell?

Two minutes later, the older crime-fighter heard numbers alternating with short grunts of exertion. His partner was either doing sit-ups or pushups. Five minutes after that there was a gasp and the flopping sound of flesh hitting a hard floor.

“Robin!” Batman shouted, jumping to his feet. “Talk to me, what happened?!”

“Tired,” Robin gasped. “Did…fifty…of each.”

Inside the cell, Robin was lying flat on his stomach with his right cheek resting on the ground. He was disappointed in himself but also knew why it had only been fifty. Breathing still hurt, swallowing still made his throat sore, his limbs were shaking and he was barely sweating.

Outside, Batman was sitting down again and wondering why Robin sounded so tired after only fifty pushups and fifty sit-ups. Then the Caped Crusader remembered the small sandwich bags of water.

“You need a drink, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” the Boy Wonder gasped.

“The guard should have returned by now. I’ll go find him and get you some water. No more exercising for now,” Batman commanded.

“Yeah,” Robin gasped again.

That one word worried Batman. Robin never wanted to stop training, even when he was tired. The boy was the hardest worker Batman had ever known. But he was gasping and using one-word answers and admitting that he was tired.

“Sit tight, chum, I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

This time there was only a grunt in response and Batman, who had already stood up, began running. The bell rang again and Batman growled. Now it was cell time so at least he could find a guard without a bunch of villains attempting to assault him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who left kudos! Also, sorry it's taken so long for me to update. There's been a lot going on in my life. Thanks for being patient!

**Twenty minutes later:**

Robin had rolled over onto his back and was wondering what was taking so long. Batman had said he would be back quickly but it seemed like it had been hours.

Laying a hand on his chest, the Boy Wonder attempted to take a deep breath. It hurt just a little bit, so he was back to assuming that he only had some bone bruises. Apparently very _deep_ bruises, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

His face, though, that was a different story. It felt like someone was using a screwdriver on his nose. The right side was still numb, which worried him a little bit. And even though he didn’t have a mirror, he was sure that his left eye was dark-purple. Not to mention the dried, crusty blood that covered his entire face. He really regretted not cleaning the blood off when he had been given the chance.

The Boy Wonder decided that now was the time to eat another Bat-bar. Then he changed his mind, he needed the water first.

With perfect timing, Batman arrived at number 4 in Cell Block N.

“I figured it out, chum. I’m going to put a straw in the water bottle so you don’t have to drink out of a bag. Are you near the door?”

“No,” the teenager whispered.

“Well, the straw isn’t very long so I need you by the door.”

With an inaudible groan, Robin sat up. He was exhausted, still shaky and now extremely dizzy. He tried to roll, but tipped over and nearly hit his face on the ground.

“Robin, are you there yet?”

What was taking the teenager so long? It wasn’t like the cell was eighty yards long and sixty yards wide. He probably only had to move a few feet.

“Robin. Robin!”

“I’m here,” Robin mumbled, his voice shaky.

“How many Bat-bars have you eaten?”

“Three. I got thirsty.”

“I need you to eat another one after you drink some water.”

“Yeah,” the teenager whispered.

Batman unscrewed the cap on the bottle and put one end of the straw in the water. Flipping open the slit near the bottom of the door, he carefully pushed the other end into the cell. There was a jerk and then the water rapidly began disappearing.

“Robin, slow down! You’re going to choke!”

Batman thought about removing the straw but before he could decide whether or not to do it, the water was gone. His partner was gasping and laughing at the same time.

“Robin?”

“I’ve always…wanted…to try…chugging…”

The man rolled his eyes but grinned. At least Robin was currently thinking about something other than being stuck in a small hole.

“Bat-bar, Robin.”

“Uh, they’re all gone.”

“You ate them all already?! But you just finished the water!”

“Yeah, do you have more water?”

Batman had already unscrewed the top on the second bottle. He quickly switched the straw from the empty bottle to the full one. Half of it disappeared and then the straw stopped moving.

“Okay, chum?”

“Yeah.”

And he was. He was full, and he wasn’t thirsty, and Batman was here checking on him.

“Now what?” the Boy Wonder asked.

“The riots,” the Caped Crusader replied.

“I was with Ned in the rec room and the guards were in the hallway before breakfast. Like I said, just some scuffling.”

“How does scuffling warrant a ‘no breakfast’ punishment?”

“I’m not a guard, Batman, don’t ask me!”

“Then I’ll find a guard to ask.”

“Have fun,” Robin muttered.

The Boy Wonder stood up and began pacing, as best he could in such a small place. What was he going to do for another day and a half?! He couldn’t just pace, talk and work out. Robin stopped and suddenly realized that the stories people tell about prisoners going insane in isolation were probably true.

“Batman, I don’t want to go insane. Batman?”

But Batman, as he had said, had gone to find a guard.

* * *

**State Pen cafeteria:**

The guard sighed when he saw Batman striding toward him. All he wanted to do was eat lunch, but the crime-fighter probably wanted to talk to him. Again. He stood up and folded his arms across his chest.

“Whaddya’ need?” he grumbled as Batman stopped in front of him.

“What cell block do you patrol?” the Caped Crusader demanded.

The guard burst into laughter. It took him a good ten seconds to calm down enough to answer the question.

“All a them. We rotate.”

“Where were you during the riot in the rec room?”

“Imma guard, Batman, not a prisoner. Ya don’t get ta interrogate me.”

Ignoring the comment, Batman continued, “Where were you during the riot in Cell Block M yesterday, before breakfast?”

Rolling his eyes, the guard responded, “Like I said, I ain’t a prisoner. Go find someone else ta answer your questions.”

The guard sat down and picked up his ham and cheese sandwich. Before he could take a bite, Batman was grabbing his shirt and hauling him out of the chair.

“I don’t only interrogate prisoners,” the hero growled. “Either you answer my questions now, or you and I will go have a one-on-one in solitary confinement. Those cells are just big enough for me to force some answers out of you.”

Batman was holding the guard almost off the ground, his hands clenched around the collar of the man’s shirt, and glaring into his eyes.

“Okay, geez, ya don’t have ta get all pushy!” the guard declared. “Put me down and we can talk while I eat. I gotta patrol, I don’t jus’ sit here all day!”

Releasing the man’s shirt, Batman roughly shoved him toward the chair. The guard sat down and Batman loomed over him, waiting for the answers.

“I was in the rec room. The lights went out, there was some shouting and then the lights came on. Nobody got hurt ‘cept a coupla guys who wouldn’t calm down.”

“Was Robin one of the ones who wouldn’t ‘calm down’?” Batman asked.

“Naw, he was against the wall, mindin’ his own bidnez.”

“Yesterday morning, before breakfast.”

“Yur sidekick was out first and some guys didn’t like that. They chased him, we stopped them, only a coupla injuries.”

“Who was injured and how?” the Caped Crusader demanded.

If the ‘guys’ were chasing Robin in an enclosed hallway, it would have taken at least a minute for any guards to break up whatever had started.

“Ther’ was a guy on his hands and knees, think he hit his head, complained about bein’ dizzy. Another guy said somebody had swept his legs out from under him. And Joker was down but I don’t know how that happened.”

“And Robin?”

“Seemed okay, wasn’t on the ground bleedin’ or anything. Mighta got a bruise on his hand, think he punched someone.”

Relief filled Batman’s chest. Robin had been lucky during both riots; it sounded like he was uninjured. Except for maybe a bruise on his hand. He had one more question, though.

“Why weren’t they allowed to go to breakfast?”

“Protocol, Batman. Anything happens when inmates are goin’ somewhere, they go back ta their cells. Don’t matta where they’re goin’. I gotta go, lunch for inmates starts in an hour.”

With that, the guard packed up his lunch box, stood up and walked away.

“Wait!” Batman shouted. “Why is Robin in solitary confinement when all he did is throw a punch? I was told that the isolation cells haven’t been used for a while. It must take more than a punch. What happened?”

Turning around, the guard shrugged and replied, “He broke Joker’s nose. Man had to see the nurse ta get it fixed. Apparently yur kid’s actions were too violent for whatever guards were there. Gotta go.”

Batman was slightly shocked that Robin had used enough force to break the villain’s nose. This was definitely something he was going to ask his young partner to explain.

* * *

**Cell Block N – 11:55:**

“I have lunch for you, sonny.”

An old guard with salt and pepper hair and a limp had just entered the block. He was carrying a large Ziploc containing a peanut butter sandwich and a sandwich bag of water.

“The bell rang?” Robin asked. He certainly hadn’t heard it and that was surprising.

“It’s about to, little one,” the guard replied.

He passed the Ziploc through the slit in the door.

“Five minutes,” he reminded the Boy Wonder cheerily. 

But Robin had already wolfed down the sandwich and gulped the water. He pushed the bag through the door then laid down and started doing sit ups.

“Well, that was fast!” the guard exclaimed.

It didn’t matter whether the inmate finished the meal in ten seconds or five minutes. As soon as the prisoner was done, the guard was allowed to go eat his own lunch.

“Have a good day, sonny!”

The guard walked out the door and straight into the chest of Batman.

“Excuse me, sir,” the old man said as he stepped around the hero.

“What was ‘lunch’?” Batman asked.

As he walked away, the man answered, “Peanut butter sandwich, just like every meal.”

“ _Every_ meal?” Batman yelled before the man turned the corner.

With a glance back at the Caped Crusader, the guard replied, “That’s what I said. Good day to you!”

If every meal was supposed to be a peanut butter sandwich, then why had Robin received apples with bread for dinner last night and a banana with bread this morning?

The bell screeched and Batman automatically covered his cowled ears. He strode to cell number 4 and heard his partner counting. The boy was at sixty-two, so he was either doing pushups or sit ups.

Batman waited until he heard a pause between numbers.

"Did you eat, Robin?”

“Yes,” the teenager answered.

He started counting again, but not where he had left off.

“One…two…three…”

“We need to talk.”

“Kinda…six…busy…eight…”

“You have plenty of time to work out, Robin, but I need to know something.”

“Twelve…ask away…fourteen…might not…sixteen…answer…eighteen…”

“Did you know you broke Joker’s nose?”

The counting stopped and, inside the cell, Robin’s eyes widened. How much did whatever guard Batman had found tell him?

“Robin, I’m waiting.”

Sighing, Robin stated, “There was some blood but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Apparently he was taken to the infirmary so the nurse could ‘fix’ it. I’m pretty sure that qualifies as broken.”

“He went to the infirmary?!” Robin exclaimed quietly while gently probing his own nose. Why hadn’t _he_ been sent to the infirmary when _his_ nose had been broken?

“That’s what the guard told me…”

Then a thought burst into Batman’s mind like a firework. When he and the lieutenants had been searching for Robin, they had gone to the infirmary. The nurse had told them that she hadn’t seen anybody even though there had been two riots and some ‘scuffling’. But the guard had said that Joker had gone to the nurse to have his nose fixed.

“Someone’s lying,” the crime-fighter murmured, almost to himself.

“Not…twenty-one…me…twenty-three…”

“Not this time, anyway,” Batman growled. “We’ll discuss _that_ later. Right now, I have some people to talk to.”

“I’ll…twenty-eight…wait…thirty…here…”

Batman chuckled, “You do that.”

“Thanks,” Robin muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry,” the Caped Crusader said, immediately sobering. “I didn’t…”

“Just go, I have stuff to do. Thirty-six…”

* * *

**State Pen Cafeteria:**

“How is our boy doing in solitary?”

“I don’t know, haven’t checked since last night. Sent someone else with breakfast and lunch. Old man insisted on the peanut butter sandwich.”

“Well, let’s make sure dinner is a little skimpier, then. Can’t have him at full strength. Maybe ‘forget’ the water?”

“I don’t know, man. I saw Batman here earlier, talking to our big man. Don’t you think he’ll be checking on the kid? I don’t want anything _too_ suspicious.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll just do the same as last night. See you around four?”

The question received a nod. Then, one man went right while the other turned left.

* * *

**The Infirmary:**

“Sorry, Batman, can’t help you right now!” the flustered nurse explained when the hero strode into the room. “Fight in Cell Block A, with weapons!”

With that short explanation, the nurse ran out into the hallway. Her hands were full of gauze, medical tape and the biggest pair of non-Bat tweezers Batman had ever seen.

“Do you need help?” he called, but she was already out of sight.

Sighing, the Caped Crusader turned around, intending to return to solitary confinement. But the bell rang again and Batman immediately changed his mind. It was yard time, the perfect time to talk to Joker.

* * *

**The yard:**

Joker was lifting weights, a five-pound barbell in each hand. Rolling his eyes, Batman strode up to him and folded his arms across his chest.

“Be careful, Batman, I’m feeling very strong today.”

“I can tell,” the hero replied sarcastically. “Let’s talk about yesterday.”

“Yesterday? I was only at three pounds yesterday so I’m improving!”

“That’s not what I mean,” Batman growled, “and you know it. What happened between you and Robin yesterday after lunch?”

Joker put down the weights, looked up at the sky and starting tapping his right index finger on his chin.

“Robin…” he said thoughtfully. “Does anyone know a Robin?” he yelled to the other prisoners milling around the area.

“I saw a robin last week, up in that tree,” someone shouted back.

Batman clenched both his hands and his jaw. Joker always loved to play games.

“I see your nose is feeling better,” the hero snapped.

Lifting his hand, Joker touched his nose and flinched.

"It still hurts soooo much,” he whined. “Your sidekick was soooo mean! I didn’t even do anything to him!”

“You may not have _done_ anything but that doesn’t mean you didn’t _say_ anything,” Batman retorted. “Tell me what happened or your nose might not be the only thing that hurts.”

“Did you hear that?” Joker yelled to the nearest guard. “This man just threatened me! Please take him away, I’m scared for my life!”

“Shut up, Joker,” the guard growled as he turned around and walked away.

“Fine,” Joker grumbled. “I went up to welcome him, asked him how his day was going and then he just flipped out and punched me!”

“And then?” Batman demanded.

“The guards pulled him off me but he resisted so they had to take him down. Then…”

“What do you mean ‘take him down’?” Batman growled. “How?”

“It happened so fast,” the villain stated with a smirk. “I was focused on stopping the blood streaming out of my nose, I didn’t see anything else.”

“And then?” the Caped Crusader asked through clenched teeth.

“He was yelling and screaming, making a big fuss and threatening everyone. I think I saw him trying to escape, too. Then a guard took me to the nurse.”

“No, he didn’t,” Batman replied irritably. “Nobody went to the infirmary yesterday.”

Joker’s eyes widened in shock but he quickly shut down the expression.

“Well, the nurse wasn’t there,” he muttered, “and I was only there for a few minutes. It was the guard who fixed my nose.”

“Which guard?” the Caped Crusader asked, sweeping his arm around the yard.

“Don’t remeeeeember,” Joker sang with a grin. “Where is the Boy Blunder, anyway? Haven’t seen him at all today!” the villain finished with a cackle.

Batman knew he wasn’t going to get any real answers out of the villain so he turned around and strode away. There were fifteen guards roaming the yard but the one he had talked to in the cafeteria had said that they rotated. The man who had ‘taken down’ Robin probably wasn’t even in the yard.

Sighing, the Caped Crusader headed toward solitary. He was going to have to start pulling answers out of Robin again. Somebody had to tell him the whole story and the Boy Wonder was the only one that knew everything. If only his partner would just cooperate and give him a full report. Alfred’s voice echoed in his head again:

“Sir, he’s Robin. That’s his nature. If he sees how distressed you are, you know he will immediately search for a way to make everything better for you.”

“Or if he hears it in my voice,” Batman whispered. “I’m fine, Robin,” he continued loudly, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

_Which is the same thing he keeps telling me._

* * *

**Cell Block N, number 4:**

“Why, yes, Batman, I’m doing great. This is one of the best days of my life! Never been better, actually.”

Robin was muttering to himself. There was really nothing else to do – he had already done an entire workout and didn’t feel like bumping into walls by training. Right now he was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, his legs crossed in front of him. His left elbow was resting on his left knee and his chin was propped in his hand.

“This is so boring,” he mumbled. And he still had a day and a half!

“Robin, I need answers. Now!”

Batman’s demanding voice startled the Boy Wonder. Sighing, he tried to think of ways to avoid the questions he knew his partner was about to ask.

“Tell me _exactly_ what happened, step by step, during the riot in the rec room. And then do the same thing with the riot before breakfast. And do the same thing with what happened with Joker at lunch. I know that right now you are thinking of things that you are going to leave out. If you skip _any_ details, I will hear it in your voice. Do. Not. Lie. To. Me! Full report, no excuses, no sugar coating anything. Do you understand?!”

Rolling his eyes, Robin internally laughed. It wouldn’t be hard to sound annoyed so Batman wouldn’t hear anything in his voice but that. There was no way he was going to tell his partner that his chest now felt like it was on fire and his nose felt like it was about to fall off. There were other things he could say that would satisfy his partner.

“ROBIN!”

With an audible sigh of what Batman would assume was defeat, Robin said, “Fine.”

The Caped Crusader sat down in front of Robin’s door. The tone of his partner’s voice meant that he had given in. Robin was going to tell him everything.

“The lights went out in the rec room and I may have been a little too far from Ned. He told me that he had my back and I should have stayed right next to him. But the lights were only out for a minute or two so nothing _really_ bad happened.”

There was a pause and Batman shook his head.

“Nothing _really_ bad means that _something_ bad happened. Details, chum.”

“I got hit on the head but I wasn’t knocked out or anything. Just rung my bell a little.”

Another pause; Batman tried to hold back a sigh of irritation.

“And,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“A split lip but not that bad. The guards got everything under control quickly and efficiently. And Ned was there right when the lights came on. See, nothing _really_ bad.”

“Okay,” Batman agreed, relief in his voice.

Robin smirked slightly. Just enough to get Batman to drop it. And if he jumpstarted the next part, his partner would assume that Robin was telling him _exactly_ what had happened.

The ‘back to cells’ bell screamed at them, making both members of the Dynamic Duo flinch. There was a moment of silence and then Robin continued.

“I was out first before breakfast, so I could get to the cafeteria where all the guards were, but I didn’t know where it was. So, of course…”

“Wait!” Batman nearly shouted, picking up on another discrepancy. “How did you not know where the cafeteria was when you had gone to dinner the night before?”

Robin shut his eyes and grimaced. He had forgotten that. But he wasn’t going to tell Batman that he didn’t go to dinner because he was in too much pain to get in another fight right away. So, what should he say?

“Your silence is very telling, chum. So, you missed all three meals on your first full day in the State Pen. You told me about breakfast and lunch so now tell me about dinner.”

There was no answer and Batman did shout this time.

“ _What aren’t you telling me, Robin?! Full! Report!_ ”

“I wasn’t hungry,” Robin replied confidently.

He knew he sounded like an idiot and that he needed a better reason. And if he didn’t think of one quickly, Batman was going to figure it out.

“ _RIGHT,_ ” Batman roared sarcastically. “ _AFTER MISSING TWO MEALS YOU, AN ATHLETIC GROWING BOY, WEREN’T HUNGRY._ ”

“Geez, Batman, you don’t have to treat me like an inmate you’re interrogating. Oh, wait, I _am_ an inmate that you’re interrogating.”

Batman took a deep breath. He was talking to _Robin_ , not some random criminal. This was stressful enough for the boy without having the man yelling at him.

“I’m sorry,” the Caped Crusader stated.

“It’s fine,” the Boy Wonder replied.

The silence was awkward and the tension was palpable. After several moments, Robin sighed.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” the teenager declared softly.

_Because my chest hurt and my head hurt and it hurt to breathe and I needed a break._

“What does that mean?” Batman asked quietly.

“I had a headache.”

“A…headache.”

_Why is this so difficult?!_

Batman scowled as the question stalked through his mind. But he needed to remain calm, for Robin’s sake.

“From the hit to your head?”

“Yeah.”

“You chose to go hungry because of a headache.”

Skepticism filled the voice of the Caped Crusader. A headache shouldn’t have kept his strong partner from eating, especially after already missing two meals.

“Ned brought some food back. I was fine.”

_You’re fine, it’s fine, everything is always fine. Why can’t you just be honest?_

“Missing three meals in one day is not _fine_ , chum. Robin, I can handle hearing details. I need you to worry about yourself, not about how I’m feeling.”

“Why would I be worried about how you’re feeling?” Robin asked, guilt dancing around the edges of the words. “You’re Batman!”

“Back to the riot before breakfast. You didn’t know where the cafeteria was…”

“I had to stop because it was a three-way intersection,” the teenager sighed. “I got hit from behind but was able to recover and knock the guy down. The guards were there quickly so, again, nothing _really_ bad happened.”

“What’s the _something_ bad, kiddo?”

“I got hit in the head again.”

_More like the face but it’s the same general area._

“No wonder you have a headache. Two hits to the head in two days and that bell screeching several times a day.”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’s fine,” Batman interrupted, his voice matching the tone of Robin’s voice.

“Um, yeah,” the Boy Wonder whispered.

“Lunch.”

“I ate, we went to the yard and Joker came up to me. I punched him and got thrown in here because I started it.”

“Robin, you don’t just punch people without a reason. What did he do, or say?”

“He asked if I was enjoying my stay. I was irritated – he was so cheery about it – so I just took it out on him. Stupid choice but what’s done is done.”

“And?”

“Then I ended up here, like I just told you!”

“How did you get here, chum?”

“Um…”

“You don’t remember because you were unconscious,” Batman stated with a sigh. “Don’t answer that, I already know it’s the truth.”

“Well, I may have, um, accidentally almost hit a guard.”

“WHAT?!”

“He startled me and I just reacted. I stopped my fist before it connected but I don’t think that really mattered to him.”

“Did you try to escape, Robin? When they were bringing you here, did you struggle at all?”

“I yelled at Joker and everyone else.”

“That’s not what I asked, chum.”

“Fine,” Robin sighed. “Yes, but only because I was trying to capture a criminal. That’s what it felt like, Batman. All those times I’ve been kidnapped or captured, it was just like that. All I had to do was get out of their grasp so I could take down the bad guy. Only this time, ‘their’ happened to be guards at the State Pen. Then I woke up here and a while later I heard Lt. Copple’s voice and then you.”

“Did they beat you, chum?” Batman asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

“Just another hit to the head,” the teenager mumbled.

“But hard enough to knock you out,” the man commented under his breath.

“I didn’t sleep well last night, Batman. And I’m really bored. I’m going to take a nap.”

The Caped Crusader decided to let it go for now. Not that he really had a choice – he could already hear the deep breathing that meant his young partner was asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**State Pen Cafeteria – 4:30:**

“I went to check on him earlier. Batman’s up there and he didn’t leave. I watched for almost half an hour. The guy just sat on the floor, reading some kind of paper or something.”

“Even Batman has to eat sometime, though. Take the apples and water up there and stay out of sight. When the man leaves to eat dinner, give the boy his dinner.”

“It’s just scary, I mean, he’s _Batman_!”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Then you do it!”

“Fine, I’ll take care of it. You let our man know what’s going on.”

“Uh, never mind, I’ll feed the kid.”

The two men left the cafeteria, one on the way to Cell Block N, the other to block M.

* * *

**Cell Block N – 4:35:**

Neither member of the Dynamic Duo had spoken since Robin had decided to take a nap. Outside the cell, the Caped Crusader had read an old copy of “The Daily Planet”. Inside, the Boy Wonder had slept for twenty minutes and then spent the majority of the next three hours staring at the wall, watching a rectangular patch of sunlight move slowly toward the west.

“Robin, I’m going to grab something to eat in the cafeteria. What do you want me to bring back?”

“You really think they’ll give you something to bring back?” the teenager laughed while stifling a yawn. “Besides, the only thing they have is gray mush with cubed meatballs. And they’ll bring me dinner soon. You should go somewhere else to eat, trust me.”

“I’m not leaving the State Pen until you’re out of isolation, Robin.”

“Seriously, Batman, don’t eat the food here. Alf…someone will be very upset if you get food poisoning. At least go to a gas station and get some kind of snack.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, chum. The cafeteria isn’t that far away.”

“When you start throwing up, don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

“Did you throw up after eating it?”

“Um, no.”

“Then I think I can handle it, too. Ten minutes.”

Batman strode out the door, heading for the cafeteria. Suddenly, the slit at the bottom of the door popped open and in came the Ziploc bag.

“If a certain person asks,” a deep voice growled, “you had a peanut butter sandwich. Or I can come in there right now and show you how I learned to use a nightstick.”

“This peanut butter sandwich looks delicious,” Robin quickly replied, a touch of fear woven through the words.

“Three minutes,” the voice grunted, satisfaction surrounding the words.

“Three?!” Robin exclaimed. “But I…”

“Two minutes and fifty seconds.”

Robin ripped open the bag – apple slices and water. No sandwich, not even bread.

“Two and a half.”

He didn’t know if Batman would be able to get any more bottles of water, so the Boy Wonder chewed as fast as he could. The more apples that went in the better, but he had to make sure he had enough time to drink the water.

“Forty-five seconds until I teach you a lesson.”

Eyes wide with terror, Robin grabbed the small bag and gulped the water as fast as he could. The guard was counting down from twenty when the teenager zipped everything up and pushed the bag through the slot.

“Have a fun night.”

The man with the deep voice chuckled as he walked away. A fun night, indeed.

Five minutes later Batman was back. Robin was sitting in a ball against the back wall of his cell, his body trembling from the lingering feeling of terror. 

“You’re right, chum. I’ll have someone send up some Bat-bars tomorrow.”

The taste of mud was caking his mouth and Batman understood why Robin had needed so much water. He had already finished a bottle and a half, saving the rest for his partner.

“I, uh, already ate,” Robin said quietly. “It was a pretty good peanut butter sandwich. They should, um, just serve those instead.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. Robin would never call a peanut butter sandwich ‘pretty good’. The Boy Wonder only liked peanut butter on bananas and celery, not slathered between two pieces of bread. Also, the teenager’s voice was shaking noticeably.

“What happened, Robin?”

“Huh?”

“While I was gone, what happened?”

“A, um, guard brought dinner and I ate it.”

“Then why do you sound so scared?”

Robin took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. It was over, the guard was gone and he was safe. For now.

“I’m fine, Batman, I just ate quickly and my mouth is sticky.”

“You need some water, kiddo? I have half a bottle out here for you.”

“Maybe later. I’m fine for now. Thanks.”

His partner had made a valiant effort but Batman could still detect a trace of fear in the boy’s voice. Someone had either threatened him or gone in and done something to him.

“Whatever he said, I’m not going to let it happen, chum,” Batman said firmly.

“Nothing happened, Batman, I’m fine!”

Now there was guilt mixed in with the fear. But the Caped Crusader understood why Robin would lie about something like this. Whoever had threatened him had the power to follow through. The Boy Wonder had enough enemies in this place; he didn’t need a guard added to the list.

Batman heard heavy breathing, rhythmic pounding and counting. Robin was doing cardio. He grinned slightly; the boy was going to be stronger than any villain in this place by the time this was all over. 

* * *

**Several hours later:**

The bell screeched for the final time – lights out.

“Uh, Batman, I think I see part of the Bat-signal. It could be a cloud, though.”

Batman stood up and glanced through the window. The Bat-signal was indeed glowing brightly in the night sky.

“Interesting,” Batman commented as he sat down and leaned against the wall.

“WHAT?!” Robin yelled.

“Robin,” Batman sighed, “I’m not going out there to help them for several reasons. First, they are the ones that put you in here. Second, they can find out for themselves how much they need _us_. Third, I’m not leaving you here alone. Fourth…”

“Come on, Batman! Something bad has happened and they need your help! They didn’t have a choice about me, they already know that they need us and I’m here alone whether you’re out in the hallway or not. Are you going to let something bad happen to the innocent citizens of Gotham City? I’m fine but obviously somebody out there is not. GO!”

Robin had made some good points, Batman conceded. Could he really let an innocent citizen be hurt because he, the _hero_ , was mad at the entire police department? But was he really going to leave Robin, who had sounded almost terrified after dinner?

“I. Am. Fine!” Robin declared. “I can hear you debating in your mind. All I’m going to do is go to sleep. Both a certain someone and I will be disappointed if you don’t do your job!”

“Fine,” Batman ground out, “but I’m back here right after I’ve fixed it.”

“You should get some Bat-bars on your way back,” Robin stated, attempting to sound indifferent. “Then you won’t have to eat the mush.”

_And you won’t have to eat peanut butter sandwiches._

Batman almost chuckled at Robin’s tone. Bat-bars were better for both of them, anyway.

“Good idea, chum. Try to sleep.”

"Yeah,” Robin responded. “You, too. Maybe in the Batcave. It’s much more comfortable there and you need a good night’s sleep.”

Ignoring the comment, Batman said, “I’ll be back before you wake up.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

**Two hours later:**

Someone was whispering outside his cell. Robin sat up and quietly moved toward the door. He caught the words ‘watch’ and ‘ready’ but then the voices stopped. There was a different sound now – fingers flying across a keyboard – and then the creak of a solid steel door slowly opening.

Robin immediately jumped to his feet. He was in the exact center of his small cell, legs apart and arms folded across his chest. Both his body language and his eyes oozed confidence and strength. The small, rectangular patch of moonlight fell across his chest, highlighting the spot over his heart where the golden ‘R’ usually resided.

“Well, hello, Robbie-boy.”

Joker. How had Joker been able to get up here and open the door?

“Howz yur head, kid?”

Oh. He had a guard in his pocket. Of course he did, he was the most dangerous villain in this place. No wonder this particular guard had always been so short with him.

“It’s fine,” Robin answered casually. “How’s your nose, Joker?”

“It’s fine,” the villain mimicked. “You know it was ketchup, right? Yours, however, was real blood.”

Robin rolled his eyes in the near-darkness. It had obviously been a trap and he, novice prisoner that he was, had walked right into it.

“How many guards do you have in your pocket, Joker?”

“Oh, two or three,” the man replied flippantly as he strolled into Robin’s cell.

Joker stopped when he was a foot away. He poked Robin’s shoulder but the boy didn’t even flinch. So, the man slapped him lightly on the back. Again, Robin didn’t make even the tiniest movement. 

“Let’s go, Boy Blunder,” the villain cackled quietly. “Just you and me, like you yelled in the yard. Close the door!”

The last sentence was a loud command and the door slammed shut.

“Let there be light,” Joker whispered menacingly.

Through the small hole near the top of the door, a bright ray of light burst into Robin’s cell, momentarily blinding him. Joker got in a lucky punch, his fist slamming into the right side of the boy’s face. But that side was numb, and Robin didn’t even feel it.

The light softened as his eyes adjusted and Robin saw Joker’s next punch heading toward his already broken nose. He ducked and shoved his right shoulder into the villain’s chest, just as he had done in the previous riot. Joker stumbled back but the wall saved him from tumbling to the ground.

Robin was fast and his fists were flying around the body of the villain before Joker even had a chance to stand up straight.

“Wait, stop, please!” Joker began whining as he started sliding toward the ground. “I’ll leave, just stop, please.”

“Right,” Robin grunted sarcastically.

His next punch hit Joker’s nose and this time it wasn’t ketchup that spurted out. 

“Owie, help, help!” the villain screeched as he landed hard on his back.

More light flooded into the cell and the side of the guard’s nightstick hit the back of Robin’s head. He saw double but knew he couldn’t let up. So, he turned to confront his new attacker.

The guard was taller and had the advantage of not already being injured. He pushed the broad side of his nightstick against Robin’s throat and shoved the boy into the wall that was two feet behind him.

“Hold it, Joker,” he snarled.

Joker was suddenly there again, blood streaming out of his nose, and pushing the black weapon against the boy’s throat as hard as he could. Robin was trapped and running out of air. He grabbed the nightstick and tried to pull it away but his hands were instantly yanked behind him. When the teenager felt the cold, biting metal of handcuffs, he knew it was his day to die.

He was choking, had no way to defend himself, the guard was on Joker’s side and Batman was answering the Bat-signal. Black spots were filling his vision and his legs felt like jelly. One Joker became three wobbling clowns right before the nightstick was ripped away.

Robin fell to his knees and curled into himself, gasping for air.

“Leave us,” Joker demanded and the teenager heard the door close.

Grabbing the dark hair, the villain lifted Robin’s head and glared into his eyes. He expected to see terror, or at least a little bit of fear, but the boy was glaring back in defiance.

“Aw, come on, it’s not fun if you’re not scared,” the villain complained.

Yanking his head away, Robin rolled onto his side, twisting his body through the circle created by his arms. He was instantly on his feet again, his cuffed hands in front of him and raised in defense.

“Wow, that was pretty impressive,” Joker commented, a touch of surprise in his tone. “Well, let’s try again.”

The villain advanced but Robin was already prepared. He swung his arms up, a satisfied smirk flashing across his face when the hard metal of the handcuffs connected with Joker’s chin. The man’s head snapped back and the boy didn’t waste time. Swinging his arms sideways this time, he whipped the villain’s head over the man’s right shoulder. 

“He…lp,” Joker whimpered as he crumpled to the ground.

Robin, however, cut him off before he could say anything else. Dropping to his knees by the fallen villain, the teenager placed his hands over the man’s mouth. Joker’s blood was dribbling over his hands but the young crime-fighter didn’t care.

“Just you and me, right?” Robin snarled softly. “Even with my hands tied I can beat you.”

“But canya do it with yur hands tied behind yur back?”

The guard had re-entered without Robin noticing it. His nightstick connected with Robin’s upper back and the boy arched in pain. Joker’s deceptively strong hands grabbed the teenager’s wrists, preventing him from avoiding the next hit that collided with his right side. Everyone heard the loud ‘crack’ and Robin grunted as his already-aching chest began throbbing.

His attention was diverted as the Boy Wonder attempted to breathe through the pain. Before he knew what was happening, his hands were behind his back again. This time the guard crossed Robin’s wrists and slapped the cuffs around his forearms. There would be no circle to escape through.

Standing up, the guard pulled Robin to his feet then helped Joker stand up.

“Leave…”

“I know,” the guard interrupted. “Can you actually do it this time?” he muttered quietly.

Joker didn’t hear the comment but Robin did. He grinned through the pain in his torso as he straightened up. The villain was going to win in the end, the teenager had already accepted that, but that didn’t mean he had to make it easy.

Robin remembered Joker’s creepy song, about not leaving the baby bird alive. He, Robin, had taken some of Batman’s attention and for that he was about to die. But not before he did some damage of his own.

“Ready to try again?” Robin asked defiantly.

Joker stared at the boy, furious. He was supposed to be down already, but he had beaten the man twice! It was embarrassing and infuriating, knowing that he couldn’t beat a mere boy unless the kid’s hands were literally tied behind his back.

“You and me, kid,” the villain growled as he stepped forward.

Robin’s high pain tolerance and continuous inability to listen to his body allowed him to momentarily forget the throbbing of his ribs and face. Lifting his right foot, the teenager kicked the man in the gut. Joker’s torso curved in and the Boy Wonder had his knee ready. He shoved it up just as the man’s head was going down. Kneecap and forehead connected and Joker screamed in agony. The mop of green hair flopped back as the villain’s head snapped back for the second time in less than five minutes.

Robin calmly followed it up with another kick, this time with his left foot. In one fluid movement, the Boy Wonder switched his weight onto his right foot and swung his left leg up, hitting the side of Joker’s head and causing the man to collapse to the ground. Sighing in relief, the teenager bent over and gasped for air through the pain of his broken ribs. He heard movement and was surprised that the villain was getting up already.

Joker, blood sliding down the side of his head, unsteadily made it to his feet. Glaring daggers at the young crime-fighter, he staggered toward the boy and swung. Robin ducked then shoved his shoulder into the man’s chest. Again. Joker stumbled back but was able to grab the boy’s arms as he started to fall. The villain’s back hit a wall so he pushed off and spun them around, slamming Robin’s body into the wall.

There was another ‘crack’ from the boy’s chest. Joker grinned and tossed Robin away from the wall. The teenager’s feet got tangled and he fell, hitting his head on the edge of the toilet before landing hard on his left side. Blood streamed from the wound but Joker wasn’t done.

Using Robin’s upper arms, the villain pulled the boy to his feet and shoved him back. The teenager was dizzy from the hit to his head and he tripped over nothing, landing on his back this time. His head bounced off the hard ground and he couldn’t breathe.

"Thirsty for more, Boy Blunder?” Joker cackled as he knelt by the limp body.

“Joke’s on you,” Robin retorted.

He abruptly sat up and slammed his own forehead into that of Joker. Fireworks exploded in his mind but he knew this was a fight for his life. Shaking his aching head, Robin unsteadily got to his feet, using the wall for support. Joker was sitting against the wall that was six feet away, groaning.

“Give up?” the Boy Wonder whispered.

“Never to you,” Joker growled back.

He, too, was unsteady but the villain wasn’t going to allow a sidekick to take him down. Standing up, he decided to take the direct route. The boy wouldn’t be able to defend himself against Joker’s trusty knife. Reaching into his pocket, Joker was surprised to find that it wasn’t there.

“Looking for this?” Robin murmured with a smirk. “Joke’s on you again.”

Robin was leaning against the wall, standing on his left leg. His right was bent, with his foot off the ground. The short, easy-to-hide knife was perfectly balanced on the Boy Wonder’s right knee. Before Joker could even move, Robin tossed it in the air and snapped his right foot out. Both his timing and aim were perfect, and the knife flew through the bars of the rectangle that led outside.

“Noooooo!” Joker whined loudly. “That was my best one!”

Furious and frustrated, the villain went on the offensive. Robin had inadvertently trapped himself in the corner where the solid door met the wall. This time it was Joker unleashing a flurry of punches and the teenager was soon on the floor, gasping for air.

He had nothing left. Several ribs were broken, his face and torso were on fire and he couldn’t see through the blood streaming from his head in several different places. But he was Robin, the Boy Wonder, and he wasn’t going to give up.

Joker, however, wasn’t going to waste time talking. He picked Robin up again and slammed him against the wall. Then he shoved him toward the toilet and the teenager’s head connected with the edge for a second time. The Boy Wonder dropped limply to the floor, still conscious but lacking the strength to continue the fight.

"Stay,” Joker commanded, stepping over the motionless form and pushing the button to flush the toilet.

“We want to use nice, clean water, right?” he cackled.

Robin stared blankly at the villain through cloudy vision and wondered why the man wasn’t punching him anymore. He received an almost immediate answer when he was yanked to his knees right next to the toilet.

“Bye-bye, Robbie-boy. I’ll miss you…for two seconds.”

Joker shoved Robin’s head down into the water but snarled when he realized there wasn’t enough to cover the boy’s face. All he had accomplished was smacking the teenager’s forehead on the metal side and opening a new wound.

“Wait here,” the villain commanded again, leaving the Boy Wonder slumped against the outside edge.

He walked away and started talking to the guard at the door. Robin idly watched blood slide into the water and wished he hadn’t been so adamant about Batman leaving. But, at least the innocent citizen would be safe.

The Boy Wonder was startled when Joker returned. He was carrying two water bottles, which he immediately dumped over Robin’s head. Then he pushed the teenager’s head down again, and this time it was deep enough to cover his face.

Robin’s sluggish mind yelled at him to fight back. Every muscle was on fire and begging for oxygen. He was exhausted, but he was Batman’s sidekick. So, he pushed against Joker’s hand, his neck muscles screaming in agony as he tried to lift his head. The man pushed harder and the boy’s vision went dark. Just before he faded into nothingness, he heard:

“The Bat! Joker, let’s go!”

“Just a little longer,” Joker hissed but the guard was pushing the door closed.

“Okay, wait!” the villain yelled.

He stood up and kicked the small torso. The boy’s limp body twisted slightly but only from the force of the kick. With a satisfied grin, Joker fled out the door just before the guard shut it. Finally Batman’s attention would be back on him and they could play games forever.

Unbeknownst to either man, the slight twist had allowed half of Robin’s face to exit the water. Both air and water flowed through his mouth with every shallow breath. It was only a matter of time before the elements decided which one would take control.


	12. Chapter 12

The fight had been easy, but long. The men in the gang had decided that, for some reason, it would be better to fight Batman one at a time. The crime-fighter wasn’t sure why. Even after ten guys had gone down, they had still refused to gang up on him. He was constantly fighting, but they were untrained and went down quickly. But there had been so many!

After a quick stop at the Batcave to restock his supply of Bat-bars, the Caped Crusader returned to the State Pen. It was two in the morning; hopefully Robin was asleep. He quietly walked down the hall and stopped at number 4. There was a soft but steady whine coming from the computer. Batman glanced over and saw a blinking message. The words were “Code X4”.

The hero picked up the phone and called the processing desk.

“Lt. Copple, State Pen processing.”

“It’s Batman, up in solitary. What is Code X4?”

“The ‘X’ is for extra and four would be the cell number. Wait, you’re in solitary?”

“Yes, so what does this mean?”

“Somebody added extra time. I’ll be right up.”

The phone went quiet and Batman stared at the computer in disbelief. Somebody had _added_ to Robin’s time in isolation?

“I shouldn’t have left, I knew it!” he growled softly.

“Let me look, Batman.”

Lt. Copple had already arrived and was typing commands.

“Okay,” he said, pointing to the grid on the screen. “A little after midnight somebody opened the door. Then closed it, then opened it, then closed it again and opened it again. It stayed open for a while and then closed again.”

“How do we know if he’s even in there?” Batman asked.

“Because,” Copple replied, “of this. See this dot? It’s called a max stamp. When I click on it…”

They both stared at the screen in shock. Robin had been given an extra twelve hours for “unruly behavior”.

“So we can’t get him out until tomorrow morning, instead of tonight after dinner?!”

“Not unless we can find the guard that did this. Wait a minute. It doesn’t show a password change. That’s good for us.”

“Why?” Batman demanded.

“Because the password was entered recently, which means there could be a lingering hint in the system. Lt. Muschamp is better at this, but I’ll get started. If we can find the hint, we’re on track to figuring out the password. It’s a long shot – the hint won’t give us enough information – but at least we’ll be pointing in the right direction instead of completely lost.”

Lt. Copple’s fingers began racing around the keyboard. Batman walked over to number 4 and pounded on it. Hopefully, he was just waking Robin up.

“Robin, answer me! Robin!”

The Caped Crusader called his name several times every hour on the hour but never received an answer. When the bell rang for breakfast, Lt. Copple returned to processing and sent up Lt. Muschamp.

“If we can find this,” Muschamp immediately warned, “we can only erase the extra twelve hours. We still have to wait for the original time to be done.”

Nodding his head in understanding, Batman pounded on the door again.

“Time to get up sleepy-head. The bell rang for breakfast. Let’s go, Robin, don’t be lazy!”

* * *

Robin was floating in darkness, his body still slumped against the toilet and half of his young face still submerged. His mind was empty and his heartbeat slow. Air and water were still fighting for control.

The water was red now. Blood had been seeping out of the wounds on his head for several hours. It had slowed down, but the lack of pressure ensured that it didn’t stop. On the exposed half of his face, the blood had dried and was stuck to almost every inch of pale skin.

Batman’s yelling, however, was taking its toll. Every sound was like a cat swiping its sharp claws across a chalkboard. The screeching of the breakfast bell burst into his mind, awakening a small light. This tiny beam began racing through the darkness, leaving minute, glowing circles everywhere it touched.

* * *

The old guard ambled into Cell Block N, headed for number 4 with a peanut butter sandwich and some water. He stopped in shock when he saw Batman pounding on the door and the computer-savvy Lt. Muschamp rapidly typing on the keyboard.

“What do you want?” the Caped Crusader growled.

Muschamp ignored the sound, desperately searching for the tiny hint that would allow him to erase the extra twelve hours. There was no way the boy had been ‘unruly’ and the lieutenant was going to fix this and then find out who had done it.

“Breakfast,” the old guard answered, holding up the bag.

Without waiting for permission, the man slowly knelt down and pushed the bag through the slit. Nothing happened – the bag didn’t disappear and there was no sound of someone moving around to get it.

“Take it out, I’ve got breakfast,” Batman demanded.

“Okay,” the older man acquiesced.

Carefully rising to his feet, the guard held out the bag. The hero didn’t give it a second glance, so the wizened man shrugged his shoulders, dropped it on the ground and limped out the door. If Batman wanted to give the kid a smashed-up sandwich, that was his choice.

“Robin, I’ve got Bat-bars.”

Opening the slit, the Caped Crusader pushed two of them into the cell. He held the slit open, attempting to see inside. The cell was too dark, though, preventing him from seeing anything. 

Batman waited for the sound of a Bat-bar wrapper being torn open. And waited. Five agonizing minutes passed and the hero began pounding on the door again.

“If you’re working out again, at least tell me! I know something happened last night, chum. You don’t have to talk about it for now; just let me know that you’re in there!”

“He’s in there,” Lt. Muschamp murmured. “If he had escaped, or been taken out, the person who was here wouldn’t have taken the time to add an extra twelve hours.”

The man had made a good point. Robin had to be in there. Maybe he was just in a really deep sleep, or was too upset to talk about anything. Perhaps something _really_ bad had happened, something the teenager would be ashamed to admit.

“At least tell me to shut up!” Batman yelled, pounding on the door one last time before taking a break.

There was a quiet ‘thump’, and then…nothing.

* * *

Robin was still completely unconscious. But the tiny dots of light had merged together and his brain had slightly awakened. Somehow, his brain convinced his muscles to move. They complied, and the teenager slid off the edge of the toilet, landing on his back with a quiet ‘thump’. Air received total control and began flooding his body with oxygen.

If Robin had been awake, he would have felt his body screaming at him in pain. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

* * *

Batman was pounding on the door and shouting every ten minutes. Lt. Muschamp had a very large headache and it was becoming difficult to concentrate. He knew if _his_ partner was in there, he would be doing the same thing. But he was searching for a tiny needle in a complicated haystack and the noise was doing more harm than good.

“Batman, I need it quiet. It’s hard enough to find this without you yelling all the time.”

“Muschamp,” the hero growled, “my _fifteen-year-old_ partner is in there, not making any sounds, and you expect me to just give up?!”

“No, I just need longer than ten minutes at a time. Maybe you could go investigate, try to figure out who was in on this. Who hates the boy, or wants revenge or…something.”

“Almost everybody in here does!” Batman exclaimed.

He paused momentarily and then snarled, “The villains in Cell Block M. They would probably have the resources to do something like this.”

Without waiting for an answer, the Caped Crusader flew out the door, heading for block M. A tiny spark of hope danced in his chest. If somebody had done something, Robin would have left proof. The Boy Wonder would not have given in easily, no matter the circumstances.

* * *

People were talking and the noise was too loud. Robin’s brain couldn’t make the sounds into words, but the harsh voices were waking him up. Now he could feel the pain rippling throughout his body, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even open his eyes.

The Boy Wonder was lying on his back with his legs curled up backwards on his left side. His arms were still tightly bound together underneath him, the rigid cuffs biting into his forearms and his fingers curled awkwardly against the floor. Most of the blood on his head was completely dry, caking his hair and face in a layer of cracked, crimson mud. Robin’s right cheek was resting on the cold ground, his head having fallen to the side when his body had slid off the toilet.

Breathing hurt, every whisper of air flowing in felt like an ice pick scraping down his lungs. He wanted to stop breathing, but that was also out of his control. His throat was raw and felt squished – the nightstick had been a valuable, and convenient, asset to Joker’s plan.

Someone was pounding a nail into his chest, Robin was absolutely positive about that. He was now floating in and out of consciousness, never alert enough to do anything, but just aware enough to feel every tiny bit of pain. The agony was overwhelming, but the loud noises kept bringing him back from the brink of darkness that would give him some relief.

A soft moan escaped his mouth, but his older partner was too far away to hear it and Lt. Muschamp was too focused to acknowledge it.

* * *

**Cell Block M:**

It was nearly lunch time and Batman was waiting in the shadows near the end of the block. Every single person would have to pass him on the way to the cafeteria, but the darkness was hiding him well. The bell screamed, and Batman tensed in anticipation.

Riddler, Mr. Freeze, Penguin, henchman after henchman, villain after villain all filed past his spot. Joker was near the end, deep in conversation with a run-of-the-mill henchman. Batman couldn’t see the villain’s face but there was a quiet hitch in the man’s breathing. Either he had been in a fight this morning, or Robin had left proof last night, just as Batman had known he would. His young partner was a fighter who would never give in to a villain. Especially, the Caped Crusader knew, if that villain was Joker.

The man despised the boy, hated him with every fiber of his being. Robin wasn’t like that; he could never hate someone with so much passion. But, if he could, Joker would be the one on the receiving end of that hatred.

A blue-gloved hand snapped out of the shadows, grabbing the right shoulder of Joker and spinning him around to face a wall. Batman pushed the man’s torso against the wall and whipped both purple-gloved hands behind the villain. Clasping the man’s wrists with one hand, the Caped Crusader grabbed the neck of Joker’s shirt and smashed his body all the way against the wall.

“What did you do, Joker,” Batman snarled quietly in the villain’s ear.

“What are you talking about?” the man gasped with a touch of fear in his tone.

Without answering, Batman snatched a pair of Bat-cuffs out of his utility belt and snapped them around Joker’s wrists. Grabbing the villain’s shoulders, the hero spun him around. Clenching his hands on the front of the man’s shirt, Batman shoved Joker’s back against the wall, ‘accidentally’ forcing his head to connect with the cement.

“Where were you last night?” Batman snarled again, his face an inch from that of the villain.

“In my cell, like everybody else,” Joker answered. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Help, I’m being attacked, somebody help!”

There were two guards bringing up the rear. Joker watched in disbelief as they passed by without a second glance in his direction.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he screamed. “I’m being assaulted!”

“Shut up, Joker,” one of the guards answered. “Just answer the man’s questions and then you can have lunch.”

“Why are you leaving?! I’ll escape,” he threatened. “I’ll run away after this ‘delightful’ conversation, you’ll never catch me!”

The other guard turned around, sighed in annoyance, and responded, “I’m sure that _Batman_ can help you find your way to the cafeteria. And I’ve heard that it’s pretty much impossible to _escape_ from Bat-cuffs. So, good luck with that.”

The guards turned the corner and soon even their voices had disappeared. Batman glared at Joker with a savage grin.

“Just you and me, Joker. Tell me what you did or we can have this chat in the small cells up in block N. It’s difficult to move around – dodge, if you will – in there.”

“Yep,” the villain muttered under his breath, just low enough that he was sure the hero couldn’t hear him.

The hero was, however, _Batman_.

“So, you have experience. Tell me, Joker,” Batman snarled for the third time, “when did you gain such experience? Could it have been last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the villain mumbled.

“Why don’t I believe you?” the Caped Crusader murmured, the threat in his voice obvious. “Maybe it’s because your breathing is labored, or the fact that your nose is purple. Or perhaps it’s the crack on your forehead, that I’m sure could begin bleeding with a quick punch. Maybe it’s the way you’re trembling under my hands, or the guilt flooding your eyes. It could even be that I know for a fact that if you had seen Robin last night, he would leave proof like this no matter what you tried to do to him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joker repeated.

But the fear in his voice was very noticeable and he knew he wasn’t fooling anybody, especially Batman.

“You’re an idiot,” Batman stated, his voice deadly quiet. “You can’t fake your way out of this so just tell me what you did. Who was with you, what’s the password, and everything else that has happened in these past two days.”

“Password?” Joker mumbled, surprise in his voice this time.

Batman pulled the villain away from the wall then slammed him back into it.

“Which guard do you have in your pocket? Or guard ** _s_**. You can still choose to go up to N, where there’s an angry lieutenant who would have no qualms about opening a cell for us. He would close it, too, and leave us alone to chat.”

“We _are_ chatting, we don’t need to go up there,” Joker mumbled.

“ _Then answer the questions!_ ” Batman roared in his face.

The conversation was becoming too long for the Clown Prince of Crime and he was bursting to tell somebody, _anybody_ , what he had done. Batman would probably beat him to a pulp but at least the crime-fighter would know that he didn’t have a sidekick anymore.

“Dead as a doornail!” the villain suddenly crowed triumphantly.

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Batman exploded, horror filling the one word.

“Yep,” Joker stated calmly, popping the ‘p’ as he usually did. “Dead as a drowned rat. Which is funny, really, because that’s exactly what happened!”

The villain let out a loud, boisterous, joy-filled cackle. Batman stared at him in disbelief. No, Robin wasn’t dead. Joker had to be lying. Maybe he was banged up enough to _seem_ dead but his young partner was just unconscious. Most likely. Possibly. No, Joker was definitely lying. Robin was definitely alive.

“You should be proud,” Joker continued gleefully. “He didn’t beg at all, much stronger than I assumed. I mean, he’s so little… _was_ so little. And don’t worry, he talked until the end. Taunting until he couldn’t anymore because his tiny head was covered with water. What water, you ask? The liquid in the toilet accompanied by two large water bottles. Don’t worry, I flushed first so everything was sanitary.”

Batman was staring at Joker during his entire monologue, alarm and horror and panic rolling around his chest and becoming a solid ball of dread. No, it couldn’t be true. Joker was just making it up, thinking about what he _wanted_ to do to Robin.

“Those baby-blue eyes, swimming with anger but outlined with terror,” Joker stated dreamily. “I am going to miss those brilliant, expressive eyes.”

“Shut. Up.” Batman commanded, his tone dangerous. “You’re lying.”

“Hmmmmm,” the villain murmured, his crimson lips turned up in a gruesome grin. “Am I, though? Would I really lie to you about something like this?”

“Yes,” the hero replied darkly, “you would.”

“I can describe it in more detail, if you want. How can I convince you that it’s the truth? As you said, he left proof right in front of you. He managed to break my nose and got in some good hits on my chest. He also,” Joker whined as his grin turned into a pout, “kicked my best knife out the window. I didn’t even get to use it!”

Batman was speechless. Could it be true? Joker’s nose _was_ purple and his breathing _was_ a little uneven. But that didn’t mean Robin was dead. Beaten near to death, probably, but not dead. He was _Robin_ , he couldn’t be dead.

“You want to hear his last words? ‘Joke’s on you again’, he said. Well, more like whispered. That was right before he kicked my knife out the window. He had to use the word ‘again’ because he had said it earlier, right before our foreheads connected.”

There was a short pause as Joker intently studied Batman’s eyes. The hero was good at concealing any emotion so the villain couldn’t tell if the Caped Crusader believed him.

“Oh, yeah, and he did do something impressive! Imagine that, I said the Boy Blunder was impressive. Huh, I’m getting soft.”

“Joker,” Batman finally stated. The word was quiet but full of threatening implications.

“Sorry, tangent,” the villain apologized sarcastically. “My, um, _friend_ handcuffed your sidekick’s hands behind his back but the boy rolled around on the ground and came up with his hands _in front_ of him! He is… _was_ …quite athletic, wasn’t he? I will miss watching him flip around my henchman but at least they won’t be taken out. As quickly, I mean, because of course you can probably take them out by yourself. Most of them, anyway. I won’t have to pay as many, that’s good!”

The last sentence was softer, almost as if the villain was talking to himself.

“YOU. ARE. LYING!” Batman roared.

But Joker could hear fear outlining the words. Fear and a little bit of panic.

“Oh, and just to be sure, my friend gave him an extra twelve hours in his lonely cell. Just in case he somehow survived his watery grave – which he didn’t, I assure you. But, if he had been able to, all his wounds would have taken him anyway. He’s probably still bleeding, I left him hanging over the edge with his face still submerged and his arms still bound tightly behind his back. No way to put any pressure on any of the many bloody wounds on his head.”

Batman had not said anything about extra time. The only way Joker could have known that was if he was there when the guard – whoever it was – had closed the door. But Robin was a fighter, a survivor. He would have found a way around death; he had done that before.

_But never with his face underwater and tied up._

Tossing the thought away as he dropped the villain’s shirt, the Caped Crusader punched him in the face as hard as he could. Joker collapsed, Batman picked him up and threw him against the opposite wall.

“He is not dead,” the hero growled at the bloody face and battered body of the villain.

Turning away from the scene, Batman sprinted down the hall toward the stairs that would lead him to Cell Block N.

“YOU ARE _NOT_ DEAD!” he yelled as he ran. “Please…” he whispered, the word outlined with despair.


	13. Chapter 13

Robin, although not dead, was wishing he could die. Then he wouldn’t have to feel the screaming pain echoing throughout his body. He still couldn’t move, or even open his eyes, but he was almost fully awake.

In the teenager’s mind, twisted circles were spinning gray cotton candy around black clouds. It was dizzying and confusing and nauseating. Watching them swirl around each other was exhausting but there was nothing else he could do.

The Boy Wonder’s eyelids fluttered and his heart rate increased. His breathing became ragged as his body attempted to regain control of itself. A finger twitched, then a hand and then came a full body shudder. Eyelashes strained to meet eyebrows as the boy’s brain urged him into the realm of complete consciousness. 

Robin sluggishly opened his eyes, only to find that his world was whirling around. Flashes of yellow lasers, bright beams from the afternoon sun, scampered from one end of the room to the other and back again. His current view was just as nauseating as the one in his mind and suddenly all the water he had inhaled was gurgling up his throat and over his lips.

But the violent coughing was silent; the nightstick had taken its toll on his vocal cords. The attack lasted a full minute before subsiding. It felt like a ten-ton truck full of cement was parked on his chest. Even shallow breaths were painful. 

“ROBIN!”

The sound was annoyingly loud. His head already felt like it was being chopped in half and the thumping noise now ringing in his ears was making it worse. It was continuous and Robin was sleepily annoyed.

* * *

Batman was back in front of cell number 4 in Block N and pounding on the steel door as hard as he could.

“ROBIN!” he shouted as loud as he could.

He knew, _knew_ , that his partner wasn’t dead. It was impossible, Robin would never let it happen. The boy was too stubborn to die, especially at the hands of Joker. All Batman had to do was be loud enough to wake him up. Because, obviously, the Boy Wonder was merely unconscious.

“GOT IT!”

The triumphant yell from Lt. Muschamp uncharacteristically startled the Caped Crusader. He immediately stopped pounding and turned toward the other man.

“You got _what_?” Batman demanded, his voice outlined with hope.

“I found the last entry and was able to erase the extra time. He still has a few hours in there, though.”

Batman looked at his Bat-watch: 1:03. Robin had more than just a few hours. If their timing was correct, the fifteen-year-old would be in the dark cell for around six more hours. _If_ their timing was correct. What if Robin had been thrown in solitary only ten minutes before Batman and the lieutenants had arrived there? That would mean six and a half to seven hours, plenty of time for a battered, bloody and unconscious person to fade away.

“No,” the hero declared.

“What?” Lt. Muschamp asked, confusion in his tone. “Yes, I did erase it and yes he does have a few more…”

“That’s not what I meant,” Batman interrupted softly. “No, he’s not dead and he’s not going to die.”

The lieutenant stared at the hero in both concern and disbelief.

“Who told you…”

“I talked to Joker,” the Caped Crusader growled. “He bragged about killing Robin…”

Batman’s voice faded as the image of his young partner lying face-down in the toilet appeared in his head. Tied up, bloody, not breathing, without a pulse, lifeless.

“There’s no way _Joker_ would be able to open this door! He’s got a guard,” Muschamp snapped. “And I’m going to assume that person is fairly new. We have two guards that started this week, six that started last week and seven the week before that.”

Batman stared at him in shock.

“Fifteen new guards in less than a month!” he exclaimed.

“We have a rather large turnover rate,” the lieutenant replied. “Some men see the villains and resign right away while others stay until they can’t take the craziness anymore. But I’ve been here almost seventeen years and know how to find the weak ones. I’ll take care of this, Batman. You get through to your partner, I’ll root out the idiot of a guard who dared to assume that he could get away with helping a _villain_ without paying a price.”

“You do that,” the crime-fighter stated angrily. “And then you bring him to me.”

“He’ll probably be in a body cast before he gets to you,” Muschamp replied. “But, of course, neither myself nor Lts. Jameson and Copple would do anything to a fellow guard.”

The last sentence was outlined with sarcasm and Batman grinned slightly.

“Of course not,” he responded. “I would never think that about any of you.”

“I’ll be back when the password reverts. Wake him up, Batman.”

The last sentence was a command, but the Caped Crusader didn’t mind the tone. At least there were three people who cared about what happened to inmates in this place.

Turning back to the door, Batman began pounding again. Lt. Muschamp strode down the hall, ready to let the new guard know what happened when one teamed up with a villain.

* * *

**A dark corner between Cell Blocks A and B:**

“Joker got the crap beat out of him,” the shorter man whispered.

“Pretty sure Batman knows _something_ happened,” the second man replied.

“The man’s been searchin’ but he ain’t gonna find nothing,” the last guard stated. “Joker ain’t gonna squeal and, even if he do, he would brag about doin’ it himself.”

“So…the kid’s really dead?”

“Yep. Had ta cuff him twice before Joker could take care a him, though. Think I broke his voice, kid could barely whisper after I used my nightstick on his throat.”

“Did you hit him with it?” the shortest man giggled softly.

“Nope, choked him,” the other man replied.

The three guards grinned at each other. Revenge was sweet and letting a villain do the dirty work was even better. Batman would go after Joker and wouldn’t suspect a _guard_ of helping an _inmate_.

“Copple, I found the hint and was able to erase the extra time.”

Lt. Muschamp was striding down the hall, speaking into his radio while unobtrusively searching every dark corner. The three guards shrank back against the wall, attempting to become invisible. The lieutenant, however, was not fooled.

“I’ll update you later. I have another matter to attend to right now in Block M.”

The lieutenant abruptly cut off the communication. He clipped his radio on his belt and stopped right in front of the three men. Folding his muscular arms across his equally muscular chest, Muschamp glared at the guards.

“Why are you huddled in the dark instead of patrolling?” he demanded.

The men stared at him nervously. It was a valid question. But it was not an answer they had because they had assumed that nobody would notice their short chatting sessions.

“Well?!” Muschamp demanded again.

“We, uh, my wife has, um, this new recipe…”

“You were sharing a recipe with fellow guards in a dark corner in the murder block of the State Pen?!” the lieutenant asked incredulously. “Do you really expect me to believe _that_?! Get out here in the light and give me your names. NOW!” he commanded.

The three men stepped forward but didn’t have a chance to say their names. Lt. Muschamp somehow found a way to shove all three bodies against the nearest wall and was now snarling at them. 

“Which one of you is working with or for Joker?” he asked darkly. “Or two of you, or is it all three? You’ve got about five seconds to answer because my patience is very thin right now. I’ve been working on a computer all morning and at least one of you knows why.”

“Jo…Joker?” one of the men managed to say, his voice outlined with fear. “Why would we, uh, I be working with a _villain_?”

“I’m not asking for the reason.”

Lt. Muschamp’s voice was threatening now, although he was speaking quietly.

“Ain’t no reason for me ta be on Joker’s side,” the biggest man growled. “And there’s three of us so maybe you should back up.”

“I think two of us can handle you.”

Lt. Copple suddenly appeared around the corner. His face was dark with anger; he was sure they had found the right men.

“What do you want from us?” the shortest man shouted. “We haven’t done anything!”

“How long have you been here?” Copple demanded.

“Four days,” he replied.

“And you two, how long?”

“Six weeks, not that it’s any a yur bidnez.”

“Eight days.”

“And what did Joker give you? Or what is he holding over your head?” Muschamp growled.

“I have…had…a little girl,” the short man admitted quietly. “And a certain someone in this prison didn’t save her. He just let her fall. He could have stopped fighting long enough to grab her out of the air. He was trained by another certain someone; he should have been able to get around the four men he was fighting. But he just let her fall.”

Without a word, Lt. Copple grabbed the man’s shoulders. He quickly twisted the guard around, pulled his wrists together and cuffed them. Then he shoved the man down and waited for the other two to confess.

“Just tell us,” Copple commanded. “Man up, like this guy,” he tilted his head toward the cuffed guard. “Everyone makes mistakes. Yours just happened to be idiotic. If Robin is dead, you’ll be in this row tomorrow but in a cell instead of patrolling the hall. So if you’re the one that set the password, I strongly suggest that you give it to us so he can get whatever medical attention he needs.”

“Ya gotta ask Joker about that,” the biggest one mumbled.

“And how would you know that?!” Muschamp nearly shouted. “Were you in solitary last night?! Did you open the door?! Did you help him attempt to kill the kid or did you just watch?!”

The man refused to answer so Copple twisted him around and used his partner’s cuffs to restrain the guard, shoving him to the floor when he finished.

“And you?” Muschamp demanded.

“I’ve only been here four days,” the final man whimpered. “That guy is insane! I figured he’d leave me alone if I let some things go!”

“What, exactly, did you ‘let go’?” both lieutenants demanded simultaneously.

“I may have, uh, turned off the lights in the rec room.”

“And?!”

“The kid almost hit me! What was I supposed to do, _ask_ him to calm down?! How would _that_ look to the other inmates? ‘Oh, all you have to do is try to hit that guard and he’ll back off’. That’s not really the impression I want these crazy people to have!”

“What did you do and when?”

“I just got him in the gut and the back of the head. He was being unruly, so I took care of the situation. It was at lunch, right before he went into solitary.”

“Why solitary? Those cells haven’t been used in years!”

“Um, Joker, uh, said to,” the man whispered guiltily. “I’m…sorry?”

Rolling his eyes at the weak apology, Lt. Copple twisted the last man around and used they guy’s own handcuffs on him.

“Password,” Muschamp demanded after his partner had shoved that man onto the floor with the other two.

“Like I said, ya gotta ask Joker. He changed it when we left. I don’t know it.”

“Joker is unconscious in the infirmary. There’s no way an _inmate_ could change the password.”

Shrugging, the guard replied, “Unless someone lets him inta the system then walks away.”

“You son…”

Lt. Copple interrupted Lt. Muschamp’s sentence when he grabbed the man’s raised fist before it could fly into the face of the guard.

“Go talk to Joker,” Copple ordered. “I’ll take care of this.”

He shoved his counterpart away before taking his radio off his belt. Holding up his hand in a silent command when Muschamp advanced toward the fallen men, he called for two trusted guards to come help him haul away some trash.

Lt. Muschamp growled but turned around and walked away. They needed the password more than he needed to beat the man to a pulp.

* * *

**Cell Block N, number 4:**

Batman’s voice was raw and panic was gnawing at the edges of his mind. It had been almost an entire day with no sound from Robin. But he couldn’t be dead. Joker had just done a really good number on him, he wasn’t dead.

“Come on, chum,” he whispered as he continued to pound on the door. “Just give me a sigh or a mumble or… _something_.”

* * *

Robin was fully awake and on the verge of crying. He could just barely hear his partner through the ringing in his ears but, no matter how hard he tried, the teenager couldn’t form an answer. The Boy Wonder actually wanted to lay there and do nothing – forever – but Batman sounded very worried and slightly panicked.

_I’m fine, everything is fine. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine._

If only he could get the words out. That’s all Batman wanted, to hear something from him. All he had to do was groan or sigh or say hi or laugh. Why wouldn’t his mouth form the words? And why was there no sound when he coughed?

Robin knew he had been close to dying. He remembered the fight and the injuries and the water. He remembered the terror of not being able to breathe, and the relief of falling into the blackness of his mind, where he didn’t have to worry about breathing. And he remembered the agony of being forced to come back. That was sticking around, the pain blossoming throughout his entire being. The teenager was actually wondering if there was any part of him that wasn’t injured. Even his hair hurt.

But Joker was hurt, too. Robin smirked in his mind as the memories formed clear pictures – a broken nose, his favorite knife kicked out the tiny window, the man on the floor gasping for air, a _teenager_ beating a villain twice before being on the receiving end of a weapon wielded by a dishonorable guard.

The smirk vanished as the other memories took over – his own broken nose, several bruised and cracked ribs, _his_ blood running down his head and covering his face, water everywhere, his throat being squished by that same weapon. So much water.

He was silently hyperventilating now, the distinct pictures overwhelming him as unbidden terror began flowing through his pain-filled body. Robin could feel Joker’s hand on his neck, pushing him down, drowning him in blood. Dots of black began dancing through his wavy vision as he struggled to breathe. The Boy Wonder knew he was supposed to be breathing, he just couldn’t remember how to do it.

“Please, kiddo, just… _please_.”

The quiet words grounded him, brought him back from the edge of a terror-induced death. Batman was out there, Joker wasn’t. Batman was waiting for him, needed to hear him. His breathing slowed down, although it was still a struggle to bring air in.

“B…”

The word still wouldn’t form, all he got out was a short puff of air. Robin couldn’t remember how to say the word and his throat hurt too much to try again. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Sleeping helped a person heal; he just needed to sleep.

* * *

“Please, kiddo, just… _please_.”

The sound from the cell was quiet, so soft that Batman assumed he was imagining it. There had been nothing for too long, he was going to have to accept that his partner was…

He couldn’t even think the word. The Caped Crusader had been so sure that the Boy Wonder was too stubborn to die. But the picture in his mind, formed by the words of a crazy, Robin-hating villain, wouldn’t leave. The image of a teenager, floating face down, dried lines of blood covering his small body. Not moving, limp, motionless, frozen…

Dead.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for commenting, TekeoMiona!

**State Pen Infirmary:**

“ _Don’t you have some way to wake him up_?!” Lt. Muschamp yelled at the terrified nurse.

Holding up a small bottle of clear liquid, the woman replied, “I can try this. It’s unstable, though. I can’t guarantee results, it hasn’t even been tested on anything! He could die.”

“Which is more than he deserves,” the lieutenant grumbled. “Do it,” he commanded loudly.

“Are you sure?” the nurse asked timidly. “He could…”

“ _DO IT_!” the man roared.

After quickly filling a syringe, the nurse began searching for a prominent vein. It took several seconds, during which an impatient Lt. Muschamp began pacing, but she finally found a good one. The nurse pushed the syringe in and emptied the liquid into the body of Joker.

Two minutes passed, then five and eight. Suddenly, the villain’s heartbeat increased dramatically and his breathing became erratic. His entire body began trembling and then he was gasping.

“He’s going into shock!” the nurse cried. “I have to…”

“ _Ride it out_!” the lieutenant shouted.

“But…”

“ _Ride. It. Out!_ ”

Twenty seconds later Joker opened his eyes. Fear was racing through them but his body began to calm down and his breathing evened out.

“Password,” Muschamp growled.

Joker’s eyes were cloudy, but he understood the word. And he knew what it meant. The blurry man leaning over him wanted to get Robin out of the cell.

“Too…” the villain paused to cough, “…late.”

“I don’t care,” the lieutenant replied angrily. “Password!”

“Nope.”

Joker tried to pop the ‘p’, tried to sound normal, but it didn’t work.

“Leave,” Muschamp commanded, glancing at the nurse.

She didn’t hesitate to obey, quickly turning around and racing out the door.

“I will put you in a body cast,” the man snarled, his face an inch away from that of the villain. “And when you get out of it, Batman will put you right back in it. And when you get out of that one, Robin will be back and ready to follow in his partner’s footsteps.”

"Not coming…” another pause to gasp, “…back. Dead.”

“Prove it,” Muschamp demanded darkly. “Give me the password because I don’t think you’re strong enough to defeat the Boy Wonder.”

“Blunder,” Joker corrected quietly.

“I. Don’t. Care. Password!”

The villain’s mouth turned up into an evil, pain-filled sneer.

“Did. You have to figure it out,” he whispered. “Hope you recorded our conversation.”

Joker closed his eyes and fell back into the dark relief of unconsciousness.

* * *

**Cell Block N, number 4:**

He had tried. Over and over Robin had tried to say his partner’s name. But every time it came out as a nearly inaudible huff. Breathing was still a struggle, making the teenager dizzy and nauseous again. And his broken nose only exacerbated the problem.

As a result, Robin’s body was attempting to shut down, to give him some relief from everything. Going to sleep hadn’t worked because the incessant pounding had been waking him up every few minutes. So, his tired lungs were starting to give up. His heartbeat was slowing down, the loss of blood finally taking its toll on the strong organ. The teen’s limbs were gradually losing their ability to feel anything, joining his already numb face.

Robin was ready to give in. He had known, the first time he felt the cold metal of the cuffs during his fight with Joker, that this would be the end result. The villain was about to finally accomplish the goal he had set from the second he had met the Boy Wonder.

Batman was still pounding, still attempting to communicate with him, but Robin was tired. Everything was hazy now and the sounds from Batman were disappearing into the waves rushing through the teenager’s ears. Yes, he was ready. It would be hard for Bruce and Alfred – and Batman – but they would eventually learn to cope. Alfred would, anyway. Bruce and Batman would become more emotionless, more stoic, more withdrawn but the man would have to move on. Maybe he would even find another kid to become Robin.

That last thought gave the teenager a moment of sadness. A new Robin, a different person bearing the special nickname Dick Grayson’s mother had given her only son. The name he had chosen in honor of his parents. Hopefully the new Robin would make Batman proud and would continue to honor the memory of The Flying Graysons, although he probably wouldn’t know the origin of his crime-fighting name.

Robin wished he could say one final goodbye to the people he loved. What was the last thing he had said to Bruce? Alfred? Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara? He couldn’t even remember his last words to Joker. Had they been weak and scared or strong and fearless? Did that really matter? The villain was about to win so the teenager supposed not.

_I’m sorry, Bruce. I tried._

With that final thought, Robin’s mind went blank and began fading to black. One last puff of air floated toward the ceiling of his small cell but hung in the air as if begging to return to its owner.

* * *

**State Pen Infirmary:**

Lt. Muschamp was furiously scribbling every word Joker had said during their brief conversation: too, late, nope, not, coming, back, dead, blunder

After that Joker had said he had given the password, so the villain’s last sentence didn’t matter. Was it one of those words or a combination? What if it was also something he, Lt. Muschamp, had said?

He needed Batman to help with this puzzle. The Caped Crusader knew Joker better than anyone else. Turning towards the door, Lt. Muschamp raced toward the stairs that would take him to Cell Block N.

* * *

**Cell Block N:**

Batman had been pounding non-stop for the last twelve minutes and seventeen seconds. His partner’s name loudly flew from his mouth every thirty seconds without fail. It was nearly five o’clock and Batman was panicked and frantic and horrified and terrified and the ball of dread in his chest had taken over his entire body.

Giving up on being nice, the hero roared, “ _YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO DIE, ROBIN! I AM COMMANDING YOU TO WAKE UP NOW! THAT’S A DIRECT ORDER, CHUM, AND YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DISOBEY!_ ”

* * *

The words were too late to penetrate the emptiness that was the young brain of the brave, strong Robin. If he had been alive, the teenager might have laughed at the fact that Batman thought he could order his younger partner to live. Batman was exceptionally good at many things, but even he couldn’t command life into a fading body.

* * *

“I have the password!” Lt. Muschamp yelled as he ran through the door. “I have the words, anyway. We just have to figure out which word or, perhaps, the combination!”

“GO!” Batman shouted back, a tiny spark of hope lighting a small flame in his chest.

Muschamp put each of Joker’s words into the computer, one at a time. Nothing happened after every one and he muttered something unintelligible.

“A combination, then,” Batman growled as he grabbed the paper from the hand of the lieutenant. “Joker is going to regret being born,” he stated before reading the words out loud.

“too, late, nope, not, coming, back, dead, blunder”

The wheels in the intelligent mind of the Caped Crusader began turning quickly. He created several combinations but none of them worked when entered into the computer. Somehow, they had to get into the brain of an insane man who hated the Boy Won…

“ _BLUNDER_!” Batman exploded.

“We tried that,” Muschamp replied irritably.

“Did you say anything about Robin being the Boy Wonder?!”

The lieutenant closed his eyes and concentrated on his conversation with the villain. He had said many things, most of them threatening. Body cast, Batman, Robin, Prove it…

“Give me the password because I don’t think you’re strong enough to defeat the Boy Wonder,” Lt. Muschamp suddenly yelled. “That’s exactly what I said and he ‘corrected’ me.”

“A phrase, perhaps?” Batman mused. “Not just a random combination, something that makes sense. Too late blunder. Dead blunder or blunder dead. Blunder not coming back. Not coming back blunder. Password blunder. Defeat Boy Blunder. Blunder not strong enough. Boy Blunder not too strong. Blunder not Wonder.”

The lieutenant had been imputing every phrase but still nothing had worked. He sighed in frustration and pounded the table with a heavy fist. Batman pounded in agreement but his fist hit the steel door separating him from his probably-nearly-dead partner.

“Wait, he ‘corrected’ you?” the Caped Crusader asked.

"That’s what it sounded like,” Muschamp replied. “He sounded just like a teacher correcting a wrong answer.”

“Instead of ‘Blunder not Wonder’ try ‘Wonder nope Blunder’. Joker loves popping a ‘p’ and that would definitely be something he would say to Robin.”

Batman was whispering but his voice was full of confidence. Joker would phrase it as a question: “Boy Wonder? Nope, Boy Blunder.”

The villain would save it for a time when Robin was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, or when he was an unconscious pulp of human flesh after a beating from the Clown Prince of Crime. It would be accompanied by a loud, cackling, evil laugh.

There was a shrill screeching sound and Batman, who had been watching Lt. Muschamp’s fingers flying around the keyboard, turned toward the noise. The steel door was slowly opening. Batman flew through the gap as soon as it was big enough for his muscular body. Robin was on the ground right next to the toilet, not moving. It was too dark to see anything else so Batman grabbed his Bat-flashlight and flipped the switch to turn it on. The beam went straight to his young partner as Batman strode toward the motionless form.

Blood. That was the first thing he saw. So much blood everywhere. It was caking the boy’s face and hair and there were thick trails dried all over the small body. Batman knelt down and placed the Bat-flashlight on the ground, the bright light still shining on his partner’s entire being.

There were red streaks on the toilet bowl right in front of Batman and, when he looked inside, the water was a dark crimson color. Joker hadn’t been lying about drowning the boy.

**_Attempting_ ** _to drown him._

That thought, although hopeful, was ridiculous. It was obvious that the Boy Wonder was dead, even a person who knew nothing about death could figure it out.

Batman laid his head on Robin’s unmoving chest. There was no air flowing in or out, no steady or even erratic thumping of a heart, no wheezing or gasping. The Caped Crusader lifted his head and ran his hands around the teenager’s body. The boy’s arms and legs were slightly warm; he hadn’t been dead for long.

“I’m so sorry, chum,” the hero whispered. “I failed you, I’m so sorry.”

Unnoticed tears began sliding down his cheeks. It was his fault. If he had worked harder to keep Robin out of prison, if he had downright refused to allow the boy to be taken away, his young ward would still be alive. How was he going to tell Alfred?

Lt. Muschamp was standing just outside the door. Even from there he could tell that the teenager was dead. Tears were sliding down his cheeks, also. He thought about going over but decided to let Batman have some time alone with his young partner.

“I’ll keep everyone away,” he stated quietly, not expecting a response.

“Get him,” Batman growled, grief filling his voice. “Now.”

“He’s in the infirmary, completely unconscious. Nothing can be gained by seeing him.”

“I…”

Batman started but couldn’t continue. He gently placed one hand on Robin’s chest and used the other to brush the blood-stiffened hair away from the closed eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Robin.”

The Caped Crusader carefully rolled Robin onto his side. He took the Bat-pick out of his utility belt and quickly released the handcuffs. Then he laid the Boy Wonder on his back again and straightened out his legs.

“This wasn’t…you weren’t…I shouldn’t have allowed this. Any of this. You should never have become Robin. You have…had…so much potential, kiddo. I should have let you live, should have kept you out of the darkness. I can’t do this without you, chum. I need you.”

The words were quiet and full of sorrow. Batman needed Robin, more than he himself had known. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to fight crime without a young partner by his side. This…this was more than even The Batman could bear.

* * *

Robin was very near to death. His heart had stopped, his lungs were empty and ice was flowing in his veins. But _very near_ is not _dead_. That tiny, stubborn spot of light was still in his brain. And it was fighting for him.

* * *

“Bat…man to Bat…cave.”

Batman choked on the words as he spoke into his Bat-communicator. He wanted to tell Alfred now, so that he wouldn’t have to stand there and watch the butler’s face crumble. Because if he did, that same thing would happen to him. And Batman’s face should never crumble in despair or grief or pain or anything.

“Sir?”

“I…he’s…”

“Please tell me you have seen him, sir!”

The only things Alfred knew were that Batman had been at the State Pen for a long time and that last night he had answered the Bat-signal. So, the older hero must have been able to at least talk to the younger one. Otherwise Batman would not have answered the call for help from Commissioner Gordon. Robin was probably the one that convinced him to do it, Alfred was fairly certain about that.

“Yes, I’ve…seen him.”

“Is he well, sir? Is he getting enough to eat? Enough sleep? Where is he located? And why, sir, have you not communicated anything to me for almost two days?!”

“No, he’s not well.”

The pause was long. A large cloud of dread began filling the air around Alfred. Batman’s voice should not sound like this after seeing Robin, even if the teenager was severely injured. 

“He’s…” Batman tried to continue but a sob of anguish choked his throat.

“No,” Alfred whispered. “No, sir, please don’t…no, he can’t be…”

“Joker got to him in solitary,” Batman explained softly, tears flowing through the words. “And he had help from a guard. There’s so much blood. I…”

“Come home, sir,” Alfred commanded quietly. “Get him out of that place, bring your partner home.”

“O…okay,” the hero agreed, his voice trembling. “Bat…Batman out.”

Slipping the Bat-communicator back into his utility belt, the Caped Crusader glanced back at the open door. Lt. Muschamp was gone, fulfilling his promise of keeping everyone away. Batman stared down at Robin for a moment longer, then carefully placed his arms under the slim neck and strong legs. He stood up and carried the Boy Wonder out of cell number 4 in Cell Block N.

Lt. Muschamp was standing at the end of the short hall, his back up against the door. Nobody was going to come in while he was there. When Batman appeared carrying a limp and bloody Robin, the lieutenant quietly opened the door and held it for the man to pass through. A stoic Batman gave a curt nod to an equally stoic lieutenant before striding down the stairs.

The day had turned dark. The bright rays of the late afternoon sun were hidden behind thick, angry clouds threatening to burst into a downpour. It was as if the sky itself was mourning the death of the young hero.

The Bat-phone extension in the Batmobile rang just as the engine roared to life.

“Al…”

“Batman!” a breathless Commissioner Gordon nearly yelled. “Joker has escaped from the State Pen! Interim Warden Martins just called. Apparently he was in the infirmary and the nurse, for an unknown reason, gave him some kind of new liquid drug. He lasted for half an hour before his heart gave out. They moved him to the morgue but now he’s gone!”

“Then go find him, Jim,” Batman replied quietly. “I have something more important to attend to.”

“More important?!” the commissioner exclaimed, completely missing the sorrow that thickly outlined the words of the Caped Crusader.

“Good luck, Commissioner,” the hero stated formally. “I hope you catch him.”

“But it’s _Joker_!” the commissioner exclaimed again.

“And the GCPD needs to know how to catch a villain on its own,” Batman growled. “You never know when a crime-fighter might retire.”

He slammed the phone down and took off down the road leading from the State Pen to the Batcave.

“Retire?” Gordon asked the dial tone.

Batman was seemingly in the prime of his life. Why would he retire? And, if he did, Gotham City would still have Robin. The Boy Wonder was a capable crime-fighter in his own right. He could continue to help the police department. So why was Batman insisting that GCPD do this on its own? It was _JOKER_! 

* * *

Keeping a nearly dead body alive is hard work, and the little spot of light had faded slightly. Batman was right – Robin was too stubborn to just give up and die. But the only part of him that was still alive was that tiny yellow dot. And that tiny yellow dot was exhausted.


End file.
